Silly, Silly Book Series: Goblet of Fire
by iheartmwpp
Summary: Because no matter how much we may love it, nothing is without flaws. Contains so many loopholes one could use to survive the tournament, Hermione refusing to listen to anyone talking logically about anything, and Merlin the Second Task is stupid.
1. Can You Tell I Dislike Memory Charms?

_A/N: Merlin's lampshade, I have SO MANY FEELS ABOUT POTTERMORE. But who cares because I got to _Goblet of Fire_ before they did. Yaaaaaaay. Downside is the Alohomora! podcast hasn't caught up either, so I'm going to be going without their help for this one. Hopefully I've got enough to be going on with and a lot of reviewers helped me pick up little things I've never noticed before so WITH OUR POWERS COMBINED we've at least got a lot of the things if not all of the things._

_In other news, Ben Affleck is the new Batman. I am apparently not kidding as of this posting. I'm sure he'll be fine, he can't be as bad as George Clooney. Of course, now that I've said that, he will be far, FAR worse than Clooney ever was. Heh heh heh, mine is an evil laugh...TELL ME MATT DAMON IS ROBIN THAT WOULD BE SO HYPE._

**Disclaimer:** Oh God this book is so long. Why is this book so long. It's hurting my book-reading-ness. Why would it do this. Help me, Dracarot, and references from _None Piece, A Very Potter Musical _and _Sequel,_ and_ Monty Python's Life of Brian!_ Oh and _Captain Planet_ and _Firefly_ in the author's note I guess. And here, for I aim to misbehave. :3

* * *

Frank reached the hall, which was a little lighter owing to the large mullioned windows on either side of the front door, and started to climb the stairs, blessing the dust that lay think upon the stone that the intruders had somehow left undisturbed, because it muffled the sound of his feet and stick.

* * *

A slight pause followed — and then Wormtail spoke, the words tumbling from him in a rush, as though he was forcing himself to say this before he lost his nerve.

"Why do you and everyone else insist on calling me Wormtail, my Lord?"

"…Pfft, I don't know."

"Oh, okay, cool."

"Yyyep."

* * *

"I could use another wizard," said the cold voice softly, "that is true…"

"My Lord, it makes sense," said Wormtail, sounding relieved. "Laying hands on Harry Potter would be so difficult, he is so well protected, our current plan is so convoluted and relies far too heavily on chance—"

"And so you volunteer to go and fetch me a substitute? I wonder…perhaps the task of nursing me has become wearisome for you, Wormtail?"

"My nipples _are_ rather sore…" Wormtail admitted.

* * *

"Your devotion is nothing more than cowardice. You would not be here if you had anywhere else to go. How am I to survive without you, when I need feeding every few hours? Who is to milk Nagini?"

"…_Expelliarmus!"_

There was a sound like a stick falling to the ground and being hurriedly picked up.

"…Probably shouldn't have told you the part about needing you to survive, huh."

"Probably not." There was a loud _CRACK!_ that made Frank nearly jump out of his skin.

"…Shit." There was a pause. "How'd he get my wand in the first place, anyway."

* * *

"I found you," said Wormtail, and there was definitely a sulky edge to his voice now. "I was the one who found you. I brought you Bertha Jorkins."

"You really are a Gryffindor to talk back to me like that," said the second man, sounding amused.

* * *

"Wormtail, Wormtail," said the cold voice silkily, "would I kill you aside from the fact that after this year you'll be totally and completely useless to anyone? I killed Bertha because I had to. She was fit for nothing after my questioning, quite useless. In any case, awkward questions would have been asked if she had gone back to the Ministry with the news that she had met you on her holidays. Wizards who are supposed to be dead would do well not to conveniently run into Ministry of Magic witches at wayside inns…Seriously, what were the odds of that even happening."

* * *

"But I am not a man, Muggle," said the cold voice, barely audible now over the crackling of the flames.

"You're a woman?" asked Frank.

"Damn it, he knows!"

"Damn it, I know!"

* * *

…Would it not be more impressive for Voldefetus to levitate the chair and turn himself around? Peter trying to move a big armchair around just looks kind of comical in my head, I don't know about the rest of y'all.

* * *

Harry walked over to the book, picked it up, and watched one of the wizards score a spectacular goal by putting the ball through a fifty-foot-high hoop. Then he snapped the book shut. Even Quidditch — in Harry's opinion, the best sport in the world okay stop right there. You're doing so well, J.K., don't mess it up for yourself now.

* * *

Asleep was the way Harry liked the Dursleys best; it wasn't as though they were ever any help to him awake. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley were Harry's only living DAMN IT. _So_ skipping the next page and a half…

* * *

Mr. Weasley was a fully qualified wizard who worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, but he didn't have any particular expertise in the matter of curses, as far as Harry knew, not realizing that the objects Mr. Weasley had to deal with on a day-to-day basis were PROBABLY FUCKING CURSED, IDIOT.

* * *

Harry kneaded his forehead with his knuckles. What he really wanted (and it felt almost shameful to admit it to himself) was someone like — someone like a _parent:_ an adult wizard whose advice he could ask without feeling stupid, someone who cared about him, who had had experience with Dark Magic…

And then the solution came to him. It was so simple, and so obvious, that he couldn't believe it had taken him so long — _Lupin_.

Sure, he could always ask his godfather, Sirius, but then again, he still didn't feel as if he knew Sirius all that well yet, having only realized the truth about him two months ago. Professor Lupin, on the other hand, he had gotten to know throughout his entire third year at Hogwarts, and had been the only Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Harry had had so far who actually knew what he was doing. Due to his lycanthropy, he would probably have more than a few scars himself, so there was a very high chance that he would know how to help with Harry's own curse scar.

Besides, judging by the large, extremely conspicuous tropical birds Sirius had somehow managed to deliver his last couple of letters with, Sirius was down south somewhere where Harry couldn't imagine the dementors tracking him; Harry didn't want to feel as if he needed to drag his godfather back to dreary old Britain, where there was a much higher risk of his getting caught, just because he had a nightmare. No, it was much more likely that Lupin was still in the country, and he wanted answers _now_, damn it.

* * *

Harry was still marveling at the fact that he hadn't thought of Sirius straight away. But then, perhaps it wasn't so surprising — after all, he had only found out that Sirius was his godfather eight months ago, but realized that he wasn't trying to drug and kill him only two months ago.

* * *

_Dear Sirius,_

_Thank you for your last letter. That bird was enormous; it could hardly get through my window. How the hell do I know the proper usage of semicolons at fourteen when most English majors in their twenties can't wrap their heads around it and we don't even have a writing class at Hogwarts, it makes no sense._

_Things are the same as usual here. Dudley's diet isn't going too well. My aunt found him smuggling doughnuts into his room yesterday. They told him they'd have to cut his pocket money if he keeps doing it, so he got really angry and chucked his PlayStation out the window. That's a sort of Muggle electronic device that's really hard to explain to someone who probably has no idea how to even pronounce electricity, but basically it's a gaming device. AND NOTHING ELSE. IF ONLY IT PLAYED TV AND MOVIES AND HAD INTERNET AND BARELY PLAYED GAMES AT ALL, IT WOULD BE SO HYPE AND NO ONE WOULD BE DISAPPOINTED BY IT AT ALL. Also it doesn't even come out in Japan until December of this year, but Dudley's just that special I guess. Bit stupid really, now he hasn't even got _Mega-Mutilation Part Three_ to take his mind off things. This part actually makes sense, because you see sequels to long-running game series coming out on newer systems all the time, just look up _Final Fantasy, _that's not a plot hole so don't start._

_I'm okay, mainly because the Dursleys are terrified you might turn up and murder them all in cold blood if I asked you to, it's been great._

_A weird thing happened this morning, though. My scar hurt again. Last time that happened it was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts, which I'm sure won't make you pack up and come back to Britain by itself at all. But I don't reckon he can be anywhere near me now, can he? I say basically asking you to find out for me even if that wasn't my intention? Do you know if curse scars sometimes hurt years afterward? Any other survivors of the Killing Curse you can ask for me?_

_I'll send this with Hedwig when she gets back; she's off hunting at the moment. When you read this she'll be right next to you and this passage will look so friggin' dumb. Say hello to Buckbeak for me._

_Harry_

* * *

Far from needing extra nourishment, Dudley had reached roughly the size and weight of a young killer whale. Who, at birth, averages at around eight feet long and is somewhere between three and four hundred pounds. Frankly, with comparisons like these, there's a reason everyone thought J.K. Rowling hated fat people. Me, I'm just hoping she's continuing to fail at math.

* * *

Mrs. Weasley, however, had sent the family owl, Errol, with an enormous fruitcake and assorted meat pies, and since _she_ had made the fruitcake it was actually edible. Poor Errol, who was elderly and feeble, died in his sleep on the fourth day of recovery. Harry sent Hedwig back to the Burrow with the news and what he hoped was enough money for a new owl, and buried Errol in the Dursleys' backyard when they were asleep. He knew the old owl deserved better, but he very much doubted that Hedwig would be willing to drag the dead corpse of one of her brethren all the way across the country; who knew what kind of state it would be in when she reached her destination.

* * *

_If the Muggles say yes, send Pig back with your answer pronto, and we'll come and get you at five o'clock on Sunday. If they say no, send Pig back pronto and we'll just kidnap you again, good thing these guys never press charges or a lot of people would be in a lot of trouble._

* * *

Ron refers to the Dursleys by the belittling term "Muggles," and in Harry's letter back he doesn't even call them the Dursleys, he also calls them "the Muggles." I could write a whole ten-to-twelve-page paper on this probably.

* * *

Harry felt a slight sense of foreboding. He had rarely seen Mr. or Mrs. Weasley wearing anything that the Dursleys would call "normal." Their children might don Muggle clothing during the holidays, and it was a sheer miracle that they knew what they were doing, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley usually wore long robes in varying states of shabbiness. Which must've made the trips to Muggle stores to buy Muggle clothes for the childrens very interesting.

* * *

"Damn!" said Mr. Weasley's voice. "What on Earth did they want to block up the fireplace for?"

"Probably because of all the Hogwarts letters before my first year started," said Harry. "And hey, be thankful they even _have_ a fireplace, some homes don't, it's not good to assume everyone's as privileged as that, you know."

"…Dad?" came George's hesitant voice. "What would've happened if they really didn't have a fireplace and we tried to go through anyway?"

"Well I doubt we would've been able to even make a connection if there was nowhere to connect to," said Mr. Weasley diplomatically, "and I would've been forced to Apparate here and then Side-Along Apparate Harry out of here…not too sure why I didn't do that in the first place, to be honest…"

"You never answered George's question," said Fred.

"Oh, right. We probably would've exploded."

"Oh, okay then."

* * *

"Right then, George," said Mr. Weasley, "you and the trunk."

"Why didn't _Fred_ get to take the trunk, and why did you let him go first," grumbled George.

"Because he's a trifle more dickish than you so I trust you to handle Harry's things better, and the less time the both of you spend here, the better."

"Then why did you bring us at all, you could've accomplished this with Ron just fine."

"Have you forgotten how pissed your mother's generally been at you two lately? I thought some time spent away from the house, and therefore her, was in order."

"Touché."

* * *

Mr. Weasley did not remove his hand from Harry's shoulder.

"You aren't going to see your nephew till next summer," he said to Uncle Vernon in horror. "Surely you're going to say good-bye?"

"Okay seriously, Mr. Weasley, can we just go?" said Harry. "I just want to go and they just want me gone, so let's go."

Mr. Weasley glared at the Dursleys, who were still shocked into silence.

"I'll be having a word with some friends of mine about this," he promised them.

* * *

"It _isn't funny!"_ Mr. Weasley shouted. "That sort of behavior seriously undermines wizard-Muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of Muggles, and my own sons—"

"We didn't give it to him because he's a Muggle!" said Fred indignantly.

"No, we gave it to him because he's a great bullying git," said George. "Isn't he, Harry?"

"He _is_ the reason I had no friends until I met Ron, Mr. Weasley," said Harry earnestly.

"…He still could've choked on his own tongue," said Mr. Weasley. "You boys nearly killed him."

"…Oh," said George. "That would be bad."

"Would it really, though?" asked Fred.

"_Fred!"_ cried Mr. Weasley.

"Yes it would," said George. "Murder bad. No one buy products."

"Ah yes, murder bad, this is true."

"_That's_ your reasoning?!"

"Dad, one day you and Mum'll have to accept that a few of your kids turned out to be huge arseholes."

* * *

"Oh hello, Harry," said Percy. "I was wondering who was making all the noise. I'm trying to work here, you know — I've got a report to finish for the office — and it's rather difficult to concentrate when people keep thundering up and down the stairs even though I've grown up surrounded by loud noises all my life and had to do summer homework under these conditions for seven years so you really think I'd be used to this shit by now."

"You spent seven years at Hogwarts and you never learned how to muffle noises?" asked Ron incredulously. "Did Snape create the only spell like that in existence or what?"

"Do piss off, Ron."

"How shall I piss off, O Lord?"

* * *

"Er—why are you calling that owl Pig?" Harry asked Ron.

"Because he's being stupid," said Ginny. "Its proper name is Pigwidgeon."

"Yeah, and that's not a stupid name at all," said Ron sarcastically. "Ginny named him," he explained to Harry. "She reckons it's sweet. Kind of makes you worried about any kids she might have; I don't care if she's responsible for the vast majority of the process, I would _not_ put her in charge of naming them."

"You could've named him on the train, you know," said Hermione. "Then you wouldn't have had to deal with Ginny naming him in the first place."

"Hey, I took a couple of days looking through my textbooks to name Hedwig," Harry defended.

"Yeah, and frankly I was too busy trying to come up with a story about how I got him that Mum would buy so I could keep him to worry about a name at the time," added Ron.

"So you _didn't_ find him injured on the side of the Hogsmeade platform and helped nurse him back to health on the train?" said Ginny swiftly.

"…Er…"

* * *

"I don't know where we went wrong with them," said Mrs. Weasley, putting down her wand and starting to pull out still more saucepans. "It's not as though we've been leading by example or anything. It's not like Arthur working with Muggles, which he loves, or Bill working in Egypt, which he loves, or Charlie working with dragons, which he loves, or Percy working at the Ministry, which he loves, or me choosing to stay at home and look after the children, which I love, gave them any mad ideas to try and do what they love for a living or as a lifestyle or anything." She shook her head slowly. "I can't believe we failed them by doing what we love with our lives and inspiring them to do the same. How could we."

* * *

By seven o'clock, the two tables were groaning under dishes and dishes of Mrs. Weasley's excellent cooking, and the nine Weasleys, Harry and Hermione were settling themselves down to eat beneath a clear, deep-blue sky. To somebody who had been living on meals of increasingly stale cake all summer, this was paradise, and at first, Harry listened rather than talked as he helped himself to chicken and ham pie, boiled potatoes, and salad. He knew he probably wouldn't be able to keep all of this down, but for now he was determined to enjoy himself.

"So," Ginny spoke up, "why are only Ron's friends invited for the rest of the summer? The rest of us have friends too, you know."

"Yeah, why couldn't we have Lee over?" cried George. "Hermione doesn't even _like_ Quidditch, why did we get _her_ the best tickets imaginable when we could've brought actual fans of the game?"

"Yeah, usually you're more subtle about your favoritism except not at all, what prompted the change?" said Fred.

"You really think I'd reward you two after all this nonsense?" yelled Mrs. Weasley. She calmed down slightly as she turned to Ginny. "And I thought Hermione _was_ your friend, Ginny."

"Actually, I barely know her," said Ginny honestly. "And frankly, you shouldn't expect me to get along with her automatically just because we're both girls. I want to hang out with my oldest brothers who I haven't seen in forever and _play Quidditch with them for once_, and she just nags me to do my homework all the time, it's the worst. Why couldn't we invite a couple of my friends from my _own year?"_

"…Who else is even in your year besides Colin and Luna, anyway?"

"WE'D KNOW IF YOU LET THEM COME OVER ON OCCASION."

* * *

"Mum, no one at the bank gives a damn how I dress as long as I bring home plenty of treasure," said Bill patiently.

"And your hair's getting silly, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, fingering her wand lovingly. "I wish you'd let me give it a trim, I'm not used to men having such long hair in supposedly professional settings…"

"Some chicks like dudes with long hair," said Ginny as iheartmwpp drooled in the background. "Hell, to some it's the only tolerable thing about the film version of this year."

"Seriously, I was talking to a fellow nerd after the movie came out," said iheart, wiping her chin, "and she said the only good thing she could think of about the entire movie was the twins' hair. That was _it."_

"Anyway," Ginny went on, "it's nowhere near as long as Professor Dumbledore's…"

"Oh right, he _does_ have rather long hair, doesn't he," said Mrs. Weasley thoughtfully. "Well if he does it I suppose it's okay for my children to do it as well."

"…Does our god-like worship of the man really extend that far?"

"Probably."

"Fantastic."

* * *

"What d'you think?" Mr. Weasley asked anxiously. "We're supposed to go incognito — do I look like a Muggle, Harry?"

"…There's a Muggle village right next to you and your kids dress like Muggles just fine," said Harry. "Why are you so confused and ignorant, seriously."

* * *

"So they're still in bed?" said Fred grumpily, pulling his bowl of porridge toward him. "Why can't we Apparate too?"

"Because you're not of age and you haven't passed your test," snapped Mrs. Weasley.

"Side-Along Apparition," said George.

"Won't be invented for two more years, get over it."

"But—"

"No, shut up, this is how it is."

* * *

"Er — _splinched?"_ said Harry.

"They left half of themselves behind," said Mr. Weasley, now spooning large amounts of treacle onto his porridge. "So, of course, they were stuck. Couldn't move either way. Had to wait for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad to sort them out. Meant a fair bit of paperwork, I can tell you, what with the Muggles who spotted the body parts they'd left behind…"

"Were they okay?" asked Harry, startled.

"Oh yes," said Mr. Weasley matter-of-factly. "And this makes it sound like it's nice and painless and easily reversible at all times, doesn't it."

"Absolutely, you have completely reassured me of all the things."

"Glad to be of help."

"…What if you leave your heart and lungs behind?"

"Ah. Then you'll admittedly probably die."

"Awesome."

* * *

"Percy only passed two weeks ago," said George. "He's been Apparating downstairs every morning since, just to prove he can."

"And yet when _we_ do it it's akin to first-degree murder," said Fred, glaring at his mother.

"You were probably reminding me of him and he doesn't Apparate room to room to deliberately piss people off," said Mrs. Weasley.

* * *

"The whole Ministry's been working on setting up as many anti-Muggle precautions around the site of the World Cup for months when they should probably still be working on catching Black but a mad mass murderer that everyone's terrified of and who blows people up at will is way less significant than a sports tournament that it's a miracle it's even being held here with this crazy killer that got loose twice still being located here for all anyone knows. Also we're only setting it up to keep Muggles out, any Dark wizard who wants to invade and blow shit up is completely free to do so."

* * *

"A limited number of wizards use Muggle transport, but we can't have too many clogging up their buses and trains even though it's highly doubtful anyone would notice a difference and if they question the strange outfits people can just claim they're going to a fan convention of some sort. We're super dumb."

* * *

"What sort of objects are Portkeys?" said Harry curiously.

"Well, they can be any sort of seemingly harmless object, like a football, or…a dolphin," said Mr. Weasley. "Unobtrusive things, obviously, so Muggles don't go picking them up and playing with them…stuff they'll think is just litter and would _never_ pick up and try to throw them in the garbage or anything like that."

"Can a person be a Portkey?" asked Harry.

"No, that's _absuuurd,"_ said Mr. Weasley. "Because then if a person were to touch themselves…" He glared at his sons as they started cackling hysterically; Hermione was gaping at Ginny in shocked disgust since she was laughing just as hard. "…they would constantly be transported to different places. A person can, however, be a Horcrux."

"What's, uh, what's a Horcrux?"

"I'm not even going to tell you, Harry, you'll find out soon enough."

"…Wow, you just summed up my entire life in thirteen words."

"I know, it's great, isn't it."

"…Not really."

* * *

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone," said Mr. Weasley. "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures is probably a sub-department. Here's hoping he's not pals with McNair, amirite? And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

Cedric Diggory was an extremely handsome boy of around seventeen. That doesn't have to mean that he's actually seventeen yet, it just means Harry's guesstimating that he's close, calm your shit, people.

* * *

"Help me, Harry," muttered Mr. Weasley, pulling a roll of Muggle money from his pocket and starting to peel the notes apart. "This one's a—a—a ten? Ah yes, I see the little number on it now…So this is a five?"

"A twenty," Harry corrected him in an undertone. "iheart isn't overly familiar with British currency but she's seen paper currency from multiple nations all with little numbers somewhere on them. Presumably there's also a little number on this twenty. Are wizards that horrendous at math that they don't recognize basic numbers?"

* * *

At that moment, a wizard in plus-fours appeared out of thin air next to Mr. Robert's front door.

"_Obliviate!"_ he said sharply, pointing his wand at Mr. Roberts.

Instantly, Mr. Roberts's eyes slid out of focus, his brows unknitted, and a look of dreamy unconcern fell over his face. Harry recognized the symptoms of one who had just had his memory modified.

And it made him want to vomit.

"What the hell?!" he shouted at the man who had just cast the charm.

"Harry, shh!" said Mr. Weasley, flapping his arms at him.

"A map of the campsite for you," Mr. Roberts said placidly to Mr. Weasley, noticing nothing. "And your change."

"Thanks very much," said Mr. Weasley, dragging Harry away.

The wizard in plus-fours accompanied them toward the gate to the campsite. He looked exhausted: His chin was blue with stubble and there were deep purple shadows under his eyes. Once out of earshot of Mr. Roberts, he muttered to Mr. Weasley, "Been having a lot of trouble with him. Needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy—"

"_Ten memory charms a day?!"_ Harry yelled. "What the hell is_ wrong_ with you people?!"

"Harry!"

"I know what he means," said the wizard in plus-fours tiredly, "believe me I do. I was all in favor of explaining to him about magic and just having him learn to accept things in stride and then casting one big fat _obliviate_ on him once everything was over, but Ludo is such an idiot, already not helping the way he's trotting around talking about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice, not a worry about anti-Muggle security. Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over. See you later, Arthur."

He Disapparated.

"Wha—He shouldn't be Memory Charming him in the first place!" Harry bellowed.

"Harry, calm down," Mr. Weasley instructed. "It had to be done, don't you see? Imagine what would've happened if it hadn't been done, he would've figured out all about us!"

"And would that _really_ be such a bad thing?" Harry countered. "Just erasing people's memories, messing with people's minds like this, it's not right!" He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I thought it was just a specialized thing, I didn't know everyone could do it at will!"

"Would you calm down, Harry?" said Ron. "What Lockhart tried to do to us was messed up, I get that, but this is just how things are done."

"Well they shouldn't be!" cried Harry. "Think about what would've happened if our memories _had_ been erased or messed with somehow. Our memories, our experiences, they define who we are, they make up our whole lives. We can't just take that away from other people, we're no better than Voldemort if we keep this up!" He ignored everyone's flinches.

"Harry's right," piped up Hermione. "I mean, would it really have been so bad to tell Mr. Roberts everything and then _not _modify his memory after everything? Then you could use this location again and everything would be much easier to set up if you had a Muggle who was already in the know. He could be a new Muggle liaison to the Ministry and you could also use him as a sounding board to gauge the reaction Muggles would have to our existence so maybe we wouldn't have to be steeped in secrecy any longer and you lot would be able to dress properly around them so as to not look like a bunch of weirdos—how _do_ you manage to not know, anyway, it's called Disillusioning yourself, wandering into a Muggle city, and being _fucking observant of your surroundings."_

"Frankly," said Harry darkly, "we _really_ need to remain in secrecy forever, because if it ever gets out that we can take away or manipulate people's minds and memories at will then I could totally see us being an even bigger threat than the War on Terror. Forget people dying, these are people's _minds _and _identities_ we're talking about here, and I don't know why but the thought of people casually messing with those terrifies me way more."

* * *

Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. Five knuts says it's the Malfoy tent.

* * *

_A/N: Updates are every Saturday until I finish GoF and then I'll take another hiatus before OotP. Because it takes a loooooong time to do these, sometimes I think of things/find new plotholes mere seconds before posting a chapter, it's happened before. And if you can think of anything I haven't thought of yet, shoot me a review or a PM or something, it'll be awesomesauce._

_**Review or Fred and George'll make you choke on your own tongue and possibly die. What nice guys. I love them so.**_


	2. HAPPY SPLAT

_A/N: Okay, so I actually have a vague defense for Ben Affleck as the new Batman, because I'm sure you want me to yammer on about actors in superhero movies during a Harry Potter fanfic. So you know how everyone kind of hated the _Fantastic Four_ movies but the guy who played the Human Torch went on to play Captain America with few to no complaints? You know how _Daredevil_ was also a universally despised movie? Iunno, it's possible Affleck might be decent, _Argo_ was awesome...Yes, you are completely free to rub this in my face if it turns out that he really does suck._

_Also something happened with Miley Cyrus and I really don't care._

**Disclaimer:** Man, some people came up with the weirdest forced theories during the three-year summer between this book that I did not write and the next. That I did not write. I address one of them here and call it out on being complete bullshit because sometimes you people over-think things too much. And that's _me_ saying that. Also a _Family Guy_ and a couple _Rifftrax_ lines were unsurprisingly stolen. Also a partial line from Eddie Izzard, nearly missed that one. Oh and David Hasselhoff. HOORAY! (And now SpongeBob. I need to stop referencing when I point out what I'm referencing.)

* * *

"Right," Mr. Weasley said excitedly, "no magic allowed, strictly speaking, not when we're out in these numbers on Muggle land. Which is why we're using extremely magical tents for this. We'll be putting these really magical tents up by hand, and it won't mess it up on the inside at all! Shouldn't be too difficult…Muggles do it all the time…Here, Harry, where do you reckon we should start?"

"I don't know, I've never been camping in my life. Hermione?"

"A couple times, but my father always put the tent up while I complained that we weren't at a library instead, it was great."

"Okay, so none of us know what we're doing."

"Nope. Mr. Weasley, did you bring an instruction manual of any kind?"

"They make instruction manuals for these things?"

"Oh dear."

* * *

"Dad's having fun with the matches," said Fred, quickly moving out of the way as Harry and Hermione rushed past him in a panic.

Mr. Weasley was having no success at all in lighting the fire, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life. Harry and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. The moment didn't last.

"Oops!" Mr. Weasley said as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in surprise.

"Come here, Mr. Weasley," said Hermione hurriedly, ripping the box out of his hands and showing him how to do it properly.

* * *

"That was Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office, though I hear Dirk Cresswell might be taking over his position shortly…Here comes Gilbert Wimple; he's with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he's had those horns for a while now; I suppose _finite incantatem _really can't be used for everything…Hello, Arnie…Arnold Peasegood, he's an Obliviator—Sit down, Harry, this is not the time to deal with this sort of thing…And that's Bode and Croaker…they're Unspeakables…this is foreshadowing…"

* * *

"Couldn't do me a brew, I suppose?" Bagman went on. "I'm keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number's making difficulties, and I can't understand a word he's saying. Barty'll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages."

"Mr. Crouch?" said Percy, suddenly abandoning his look of poker-stiff disapproval and positively writhing with excitement. "He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll…"

"Anyone can speak Troll," said Fred dismissively. "All you have to do is point and grunt."

"…Also I was exaggerating," said Bagman, looking at Percy with wide eyes. "Even with the crazy shit magic can do I highly doubt it's possible to learn so many languages fluently unless you were three times Dumbledore's age or something and had loads and loads of downtime, and since we all know Barty lives and breathes his work it's highly unlikely he's ever had any unless he hasn't slept a day in his life. I could see him knowing about twenty fluently and have smatterings of several others, but not two hundred. Hell, I'm so ignorant I can't even _name_ two hundred different languages!"

"You said it, not me," said Percy under his breath. Raising his voice, he continued, "John Bowring, who was the governor of Hong Kong from 1854 to 1859, could speak a hundred languages and was said to understand two hundred."

"Just because you read something on sciencefocus dot com doesn't mean it's accurate."

"What're you talking about, if it's on the internet it must be true."

"Sigh."

* * *

"So, been keeping busy, Barty?" said Bagman breezily.

"Fairly," said Mr. Crouch dryly. "Organizing Portkeys across five continents is no mean feat, Ludo."

"…Even I know there are seven continents. I can see no one showing up from Antarctica, so what's the other continent we're leaving out here?"

"I expect you'll both be glad when this is over?" said Mr. Weasley quickly.

Ludo Bagman looked shocked. At the fact that we still didn't know his full name even though half the chapter is basically devoted to him.

"Glad! Don't know when I've had more fun…Still, it's not as though we haven't got anything to look forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?"

Mr. Crouch raised his eyebrows at Bagman.

"You are sounding stereotypically Canadian right now, good sir. And we agreed not to make the announcement until all the details were sorted out, since obviously you're not talking about putting a great deal of our resources into trying to track down Black, why in hell would we ever focus on that again, especially since I would most likely have a personal interest in this since I put him in Azkaban in the first place and greatly desire to administer the Kiss personally probably."

He raised his eyebrows at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were quickly scooting away from him. Mr. Weasley also looked at his youngest son and his friends in confusion but decided not to comment.

* * *

"Oooh, thanks, Harry," said Hermione, examining the new pair of Omniocolars Harry had just purchased for all three of them. "I can definitely see these coming in useful in the future if we ever want to examine things from a distance and if we want to replay certain actions that we've seen so we can take in every single detail of things. Maybe if we ever wanted to infiltrate the Ministry we could use this to work out a detailed plan of how to proceed—"

"Why don't we use these with our own Quidditch matches?" Ron cut her off. "It would be really useful to record other teams' games and analyze their plays so we could counteract them."

"Why weren't you made captain, I wonder," said Harry. "You're supposed to be our strategy guy what with the chess and stuff and yet it never comes to pass, it's kind of irksome."

* * *

"Harry Potter, you know," Fudge told the Bulgarian minister loudly, who was wearing splendid robes of black velvet trimmed with gold and didn't seem to understand a word of English. _"Harry Potter_…oh come on now, you know who he is…the boy who survived You-Know-Who…"

But the Bulgarian minister, as it turned out, _didn't _know who, as Lord Voldemort's chief interests had always remained centered around the United Kingdom and aside from a couple trips to Albania he rarely seemed to show any interest in the outside world as a whole, at least during the last war. However, the knowledge that a young infant had somehow survived the Killing Curse had spread far and wide, so the Bulgarian minister did indeed eye Harry's scar curiously but made no further indication that he understood a word of what Fudge was telling him.

* * *

Ludo whipped out his wand—NO NOT THAT WAND—directed it at his own throat, and said _"Sonorus!"_ and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

"Ladies and gentleman…welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup! Here's hoping you all understand some form of English because we're certainly not going to translate anything for you in any way, though since all I'm really going to be doing is shouting names at you for the most part and you all presumably understand how Quidditch works I suppose it doesn't matter anyway…"

* * *

And as the veela danced faster and faster, wild, half-formed thoughts started chasing through Harry's dazed mind. He wanted to do something very impressive, right now. Jumping from the box into the stadium seemed a good idea…but would it be good enough?

"Harry, what are you…Ron, _NO!"_ Hermione screamed.

The music stopped. Harry blinked, and wondered why the stadium was coming closer and closer. He looked over at Ron, the wind rushing by his ears. Ron seemed to be free falling next to him, strangely, and looked just as confused as he did. Harry looked around and noticed that a lot of people, many of them men but some of them women, were also falling through the air. Oddly enough, they all appeared to be eye level with him, as if he were also falling through the air—

HAPPY SPLAT.

* * *

"Leprechauns!" said Mr. Weasley over the tumultuous applause of the crowd, **many of whom were still fighting and rummaging around under their chairs to retrieve the gold.** Say what you want about Ron not thinking about the economy or inflation or anything like that, he wasn't alone and you don't often think about that when you see money falling to the ground; you'd just grab whatever you could and consider it yours because you picked it up and you know it. Though it is interesting that he gives Harry all the gold to pay him back and keeps none for himself, don't you think?

* * *

"It's time-out!" yelled Bagman's voice, "as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch! I'm pretty sure that first exclamation point should've been a comma! Also this was before the term Healer was invented, apparently, as everyone either used the term mediwizards or just stuck with doctors during that three-year summer before we finally learned what Healers were. Or are mediwizards basically nurses, what the deuce."

* * *

"They'll be talking about this one for years," Bagman said hoarsely, "a really unexpected twist, that…shame it couldn't have lasted longer…"

A look of realization came over his face. He glared down at the twins, suddenly furious.

"How could you have known that would happen?!" he shouted at them. "That was practically a one in a million shot! You must have rigged it somehow, or had knowledge the match was rigged! Or maybe you somehow got hold of a Time-Turner, or are from the future or something! There's no way you could have guessed that!"

"…We have no idea what you're talking about," the twins said in unison, looking perplexed.

"It's well-known that the Irish team has a ridiculously good group of players," said Fred.

"And Krum's one of the best new Seekers ever," added George.

"It's really not much of a stretch to guess that this was the eventual outcome."

"Why do people always discount the fairly obvious in search of really outlandish theories?"

"Search me, George. If I knew that I'd know why people insist on pairing the two of us together half the time."

"Good point."

* * *

The crowd beneath the Roberts family was larger than ever; they could see the Ministry wizards trying to get through it to the hooded wizards in the center, but they were having great difficulty because the rest of the crowd were probably also pureblood bigots enjoying the show. It looked as though they were scared to perform any spell that might make the Roberts family fall…Talk to each other about who's gonna do what, have a quarter of your dudes Stun the Death Eaters, another quarter Banish them, yet another quarter do a spell that slows down the Roberts family's descent like Dumbledore did that seems like it would be a pretty standard spell, and have the last fourth cast Cushioning Charms. It's not that fucking difficult. Also why are they the only dudes helping out, everyone has a wand here and most know how to use them. Most of the Death Eaters' wands are pointed straight upwards so they are distract, have a bunch of guys flank them and surround them from all sides and everyone shoot a Stunner while the Ministry guys work on Cushioning and stuff. This shit ain't that hard, are you all really that dumb and/or pussies.

* * *

Fred, George, and Ginny are just magically not there anymore; there's no passage whatsoever that says they lost each other in the crowd; they're just gone. Nice.

* * *

"What happened?" said Hermione anxiously, stopping so abruptly that Harry walked into her. "Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid — _lumos!_"

She illuminated her wand and directed its narrow beam across the path. Ron was lying sprawled on the ground.

"Tripped over a tree root," he said angrily, getting to his feet again.

"Well, with feet that size, hard not to," said a drawling voice from behind them.

"Well, you know what they say about big feet!" Ron replied cheerfully.

"No, I don't," said Malfoy, looking puzzled. "And who's they?"

"The people who make insinuations about there being some correlation between foot and genital size. Them. And you know what they say, right?"

"They say—"

"Yes! They say if your feet are big, then so, too, are your genitals!" Ron laughed, and added, "Which is not true at all! Wonder why they say that?"

"Why _who_ says that?" said Malfoy.

"The people who make insinuations—"

"CAN we move on with the plot?!" shouted Harry, annoyed.

"…Yes."

* * *

"Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now?" said Malfoy, his pale eyes glittering. "You wouldn't like _her_ spotted, would you?"

He nodded at Hermione, and at the same moment, a blast like a bomb sounded from the campsite, and a flash of green light momentarily lit the trees around them. Let's hope no one got killed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Hermione defiantly.

"Granger, they're after _Muggles,"_ said Malfoy. "D'you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around…they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh, because sexual harassment against a fourteen-year-old girl is always hilarious every time."

"Hermione's Muggle-_born,"_ Harry clarified.

"Same difference," said Malfoy, grinning maliciously. "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."

"How _would_ they recognize that Hermione's not a pureblood?" asked Ron. "She basically looks the same as everyone else, and apparently all the kids are dressed like Muggles and most of the adults are making an attempt, and if these pureblood bigots are anything like the rest of the purebloods they wouldn't know what was the correct form of dress either so to them _everyone's_ dressed like a Muggle. So seriously, how would they tell?"

"Unless your parents are amongst the guys in hoods and would point her out to the others," said Harry, staring at Malfoy without blinking.

"…I'm gonna go this way," said Malfoy, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

* * *

Why would a bunch of teenagers be here with their headmistress, wouldn't they want to come with their families? Was this just to foreshadow Madam Maxime's existence or what?

* * *

"They must go to Beauxbatons," said Hermione. "You know…Beauxbatons Academy of Magic…I read about it in _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe."_

"Jesus, Hermione, all you had to say was that it was a different wizarding school in France," said Ron, annoyed. "You really don't have to continuously preface everything you say with the title of the book you found it in, this _really_ isn't the time for that and not everyone wants to hear your bibliography every time."

* * *

"Fred and George can't have gone that far," said Ron, completely uncaring about his baby sister, lighting his wand like Hermione's, and squinting up the path. Harry dug in the pockets of his jacket for his own wand — but it wasn't there. The only thing he could find was his Omnioculars.

"Ah, no, I don't believe it…I've lost my wand!"

"You're kidding!"

"Where do you remember having it last?"

"…During the match, frankly."

"And you didn't compulsively check that it was still there like anyone with a phone or iPod or wallet or whatever?"

"…Apparently not."

"Merlin's baggy Y-fronts, what kind of teenager/young adult are you?!"

* * *

"You know, house-elves get a _very_ raw deal!" said Hermione indignantly. "It's slavery, that's what it is! That Mr. Crouch made her go up to the top of the stadium, and she was terrified, and he's got her bewitched so she can't even run when they start trampling tents! Why doesn't anyone _do_ something about it?"

"Why didn't you say anything about this when we first met Winky so you can get her perspective on it?" Ron said. "Actually, no, we _did_ get her perspective on it. You heard her back at the match…'House-elves is not supposed to have fun'…that's what she likes, being bossed around…"

"It's people like _you_, Ron," Hermione began hotly, "who prop up rotten and unjust systems, just because they're too lazy to—"

"Yes," Ron cut her off bitingly, "it's people like me who let a different race of beings carry on with their cultural traditions and don't try to force them to go by my own standards that they strongly disagree with—"

Another loud bang echoed from the edge of the wood.

* * *

Ron's face had gone oddly slack, and next second Ron was yelling, "I happened to be best friends with Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived!"

Harry quickly hid behind Hermione, who was shaking her head in disgust, as Ron was suddenly glomped by all three veela.

* * *

"Those poor Muggles, though," said Hermione…interesting how she doesn't say "those poor _people."_ Seriously, ten to twelve pages. I'm not saying I'm _gonna_ write it, but I _could._ I got a Bachelor's in Bullshitting—I mean English, it'd be easy. "What if they can't get them down?"

"They will," said Ron reassuringly. "They'll remember the existence of Cushioning Charms eventually."

* * *

"Here, look." Mr. Diggory held up a wand and showed it to Mr. Weasley. "Had it in her hand. So that's clause three of the Code of Wand Use broken, for a start. _No non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand._ Which kind of makes you think about what constitutes a non-human, since we've seen werewolves and half-giants and part-veela going around and using wands at will so what exactly _are_ the limits according to the current system. And how long until Muggle-borns are also classified as non-humans, I wonder…"

* * *

"It wasn't her!" said Hermione. She looked very nervous, speaking in front of all these Ministry wizards, yet determined all the same. "Winky's got a squeaky little voice, and the voice we heard doing the incantation was much deeper!" She looked around at Harry and Ron, appealing for their support. "It didn't sound anything like Winky, did it?"

"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "It definitely didn't sound like an elf."

"Yeah, it was a human voice," said Ron.

"Well, we'll soon see," growled Mr. Diggory, looking unimpressed.

"Do the words of three witnesses mean nothing to you?!" yelled Hermione. "We were right here, we're telling you what happened! Or are you just desperate for someone to blame so you don't have to bother looking anymore while the guilty go free to carry out more evil deeds since you basically gave them the go-ahead?"

"Of course he is, he works for Fudge, doesn't he," spat Harry, "that's how they operate."

* * *

"You have come very close to accusing the two people in this clearing who are _least_ likely to conjure the Mark!" barked Mr. Crouch. "Harry Potter — and myself!"

"You tried to blame Harry too, though," muttered Ron. "Hypocrite."

"Oh, like every government official ever, then," said Harry.

"Muggle world, too?"

"Oh yes."

* * *

"And I trust you remember the many proofs I have given, over a long career, that I despise and detest the Dark Arts and those who practice them?" Mr. Crouch shouted, his eyes bulging again.

"Apart from ordering Aurors to use Unforgiveables, arguably the Darkest of magics, on mere suspects with or without adequate or even any evidence, then yeah, I guess so," Mr. Diggory muttered, now reddening behind his scrubby brown beard.

* * *

"Winky has behaved tonight in a manner I would not have believed possible," Mr. Crouch said slowly. "I told her to remain in the tent. I told her to stay there while I went to sort out the trouble. And I find that she disobeyed me. _This means clothes."_

"…Wow. You _do_ realize how petty that sounds when you say it out loud, right?" asked Ron.

"As soon as the words left my mouth, yeah."

* * *

"I have no use for a house-elf who disobeys me," Mr. Crouch said coldly, looking over at Hermione. "I have no use for a servant who forgets what is due to her master, and to her master's reputation."

"So you'd rather she'd died, then?" Hermione spat angrily.

"I can always replace her. The outcome would have been the same."

Hermione turned white.

"You're a monster," she whispered. "This is a _life_ we're talking about here!" she went on, her voice rising. "It's no better than how You-Know-Who treats _his_ servants!"

"Don't you _dare_ compare me to that — that fiend!"

"Prove me wrong, then!"

"Okay," said Mr. Weasley, stepping forward. "Hermione, I think it's time we—"

"Not until I finish this!"

"Can I have my wand back while we wait?" Harry asked Mr. Diggory, who was staring back and forth from Hermione to Mr. Crouch like he was watching a tennis match.

* * *

"The way they were treating her!" said Hermione furiously. "Mr. Diggory, calling her 'elf' all the time…"

"I get called 'boy' all the time by authority figures who are ticked off at me," said Harry, "and I'm sure you've been called 'girl' at times as well, it could be something similar."

* * *

"Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" said Ron impatiently. "It wasn't hurting anyone…Why's it such a big deal?"

"I told you, it's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron," said Hermione, before anyone else could answer. "I read about it in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts._ Which should probably be required reading for pretty much everyone in our year as ours was the generation that was born right at the end of it; you'd think we would go over this in History of Magic since it's so integral to our own personal histories. But no, goblin wars are _so_ much more important than finding out about any wizarding wars we were involved in, like how I don't think we ever found out what happened with Grindelwald until doing extra reading during our lack of seventh year. It's basically akin to American schools only focusing on the American Revolution all throughout elementary and middle school, skipping the civil war to the world wars during high school, and _maybe_ getting to the Vietnam War by the time they're in college and ignoring that the Korean and Gulf Wars ever happened at all, even though those were fairly recent. Somehow I doubt the Iraq War, the Afgan War, and whatever other sixteen wars they're involved in now will be brought up that much either…"

* * *

"Death Eaters?" said Harry. "What are Death Eaters?"

"It's what You-Know-Who's supporters called themselves," said Bill. "I cannot _believe_ you didn't hear the term before now, how has absolutely _no one_ mentioned that in front of you, it's the 'Azkaban guards' thing all over again."

* * *

"So…whoever conjured the Dark Mark…" said Hermione slowly, "were they doing it to show support for the Death Eaters, or to scare them away?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Hermione," said Mr. Weasley. "But I'll tell you this…it was only the Death Eaters who ever knew how to conjure it."

"And that's common knowledge?"

"Yes, why?"

"_Then how can anyone have accused Winky of doing it?!"_

"Because we're dumb and scared and stressed and confused and other adjectives as well."

"…Well at least you included dumb."

"I am one of the decent ones working there and am thus fully aware of how terrible we are."

"WHY CAN'T THERE BE MORE LIKE YOU."

* * *

…Why did no one think Sirius did it? It hasn't been that long since the last time he got away, did everyone just conveniently forget him or what?

* * *

Mr. Roberts had a strange, dazed look about him, and he waved him off with a vague "Merry Christmas."

"Don't give me that look, Harry," said Mr. Weasley quietly as they marched off onto the moor. "You can't say that making his family forget this even if they knew about magic wouldn't have been the right thing to do."

"Only if you asked them and they said they did want to forget," Harry hissed back angrily.

* * *

_A/N: Well _that_ ended on a downer note—I JUST THOUGHT OF SOMETHING JUST NOW BECAUSE POTTERMORE'S ACTUALLY BEEN AWESOME RECENTLY._

_So in HPB, Remus is telling Harry that "[James] called it my furry little problem in company. Many people were under the impression that I owned a badly behaved rabbit." Tonks's Patronus used to be a jack rabbit and she said once that she didn't make prefect because she "lacked certain necessary qualities...like the ability to behave [her]self." SHE IS STILL PLANNING OUT ALL OF THE THINGS YOU GUYS MY MIND IS BLOWN SO MUCH RIGHT NOW YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW._

_Also there was that thing about when two werewolves mate under a full moon they produce a litter of true wolves with high intelligence and that Dumbledore set one of the litters free in the Forbidden Forest, and there was that one time Riddle accused Hagrid of raising werewolf cubs under his bed...IT'S ALL COMING TOGETHER EVEN NOW I CAN'T STOP THIS FEELING DEEP INSIDE OF ME GIRL YOU JUST DON'T REALIZE WHAT YOU DO TO ME._

_**Review or you will be given **_**clothes**_**. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!**_


	3. Hogwarts, Stop Doing What You're Doing

_A/N: So The Butler was amazing. Really seems to be the only thing worth watching in the theaters right about now, unfortunately...This summer's been kind of sucky as far as movies go, barely anything interested me in the slightest. Yes I've read most of the Mortal Instruments series and even more of Percy Jackson, I just don't care enough about them to attempt to see the movie adaptations. But now that we've almost hit autumn, on the other hand, it's time to get super hyped! About kids' TV shows! YAAAAAAAY! I am SO watching the latest series of Digimon later today! Hopefully it's not super terrible! *does happy dance* Also new Legend of Korra episodes next week, should be sweet, I've missed Bolin._

_Speaking of Digimon, Netflix is of the opinion that since I've been marathoning the two seasons they have in both English and Japanese, I'd enjoy Zack And Miri Make A Porno. Wut._

**Disclaimer: **And here we have Kitty279 making her first cameo; she's basically helping me with at least a third of this entire thing right here if not more. Dracarot is now finding plotholes before I miss them, so he's doing another third I guess. And stupid stuff taken from Weird Al Yankovic, _Doctor Who, The Hunger Games, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, Fullmetal Alchemist,_ and the ever present Rifftrax team is finishing out the last third basically, at least for this chapter. HEY I DID NOTHING AWESOME.

* * *

"Ron," said Hermione, in an I-don't-think-you're-being-very-sensitive sort of voice, "Harry doesn't want to play Quidditch right now…He's worried, and he's tried…We all need to go to bed…"

"Hermione," Harry cut in, "you are not me, so kindly stop presuming how I feel. You know how much I love Quidditch and I though it was clear that Quidditch relieves me of stress and makes me feel better. I _am_ worried, you're right about that, but my mind's working too much to sleep right now and I need to clear my head, and riding my Firebolt would be the perfect way to do that."

Hermione left the room, muttering something that sounded very much like _"Boys."_ Unfortunately for her, Ginny had heard the last part of the conversation and started chewing Hermione out for assuming that only boys liked sports, reminded her that the three Chasers for the Gryffindor team were all female, and if she didn't appreciate Ginny's liking of the sport either just because she was a girl then she should find somewhere else to sleep.

* * *

Mrs. Weasley glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. Harry liked this clock. It was completely useless if you wanted to know the time, but otherwise very informative. It had nine goden hands, and each of them was engraved with one of the Weasley family's names. There were no numerals around the face, but descriptions of where each family member might be. "Home," "school," and "work" were there, but there was also "traveling," "lost," "hospital," "prison," and, in the position where the number twelve would be on a normal clock, "mortal peril."

"Why doesn't the Ministry have something like this to track Voldemort or Death Eaters or other criminals?" asked Harry, pointing at the clock. "It would be especially beneficial, now that there's been an escape from Azkaban, if they did something like this to all the other prisoners so they could know where they'd end up if there was ever another escape, which probably shouldn't be ruled out."

But no one heard him because everyone had very selective hearing when it came to practical solutions they could've come up with using the near infinite magical powers they possessed.

* * *

"Your father hasn't had to go into the office on weekends since the days of You-Know-Who," said Mrs. Weasley. "They're working him far too hard. His dinner's going to be ruined if he doesn't come home soon because there's absolutely no charm that exists to keep it fresh or cooked perfectly in all of existence. Why even bother living in a magical world if we can't improve anything, seriously."

"Well, Father feels he's got to make up for his mistake at the match, doesn't he?" said Percy. "If truth be told, he was a tad unwise to make a public statement without clearing it with his Head of Department first—"

"Thought he _was_ the Head of his Department," said Harry confusedly, looking up from polishing his Firebolt.

"Technically the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office is part of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," said Bill, who was playing chess with Ron. "So Amelia Bones would be his Department Head. Which…Was she even there, 'cause she probably should've been. Unless it took the three-year summer to conceive her existence, of course…"

* * *

"If you ask me, Mr. Crouch is very lucky no one at the _Daily Prophet_ knows how mean he is to his elves!" said Hermione angrily.

"Hermione, it's like Harry's issue with Memory Charms, no one cares because it's perceived as normal," said Charlie tiredly.

"And besides," said Percy, puffing out his chest, "a high-ranking Ministry official like Mr. Crouch deserves unswerving obedience from his servants—"

"His _slave,_ you mean!" said Hermione, her voice rising passionately, "because he didn't _pay_ Winky, did he?"

"House-elves don't get paid," said Ron, "Winky told us this herself. She thought it was scandalous, you heard her tone when she was talking about Dobby. That's probably their culture, they work for the room and board their masters provide them and they might see that as a fair enough trade. Why don't you talk to one the next opportunity and see for yourself what they prefer. Checkmate, by the way," he finished triumphantly as Bill groaned loudly and Percy clapped him on the back, smiling proudly.

* * *

"Look, here's the stuff Mum got for you in Diagon Alley," said Ron. "And she's got some gold out of your vault for you…and she's washed all your socks."

"Wait a minute," said Harry, as Ron heaved a piled of parcels onto Harry's camp bed, staring at the heavy money bag. "How did she get into my vault, did she filch the key from my trunk?" He blinked. "How did _I_ even get the key, I don't remember Hagrid ever giving it to me…How did Hagrid even get it? Probably from Dumbledore…How did _Dumbledore_ even get it…." He shook his head. "Did she steal it from my trunk or what?"

"Iunno," said Ron, shrugging. "At least she got your stuff for you, right?"

"No, it's not all right," said Harry slowly, as if speaking to a small child. "Does she routinely go through your things?"

"Well yeah, she's my mum," said Ron. "She kind of has to with us, really, think about Fred and George."

"Fair, but I am not her child and I do not appreciate her snooping through my things. Not only am I angry on principle at this huge invasion of my privacy, but what if she'd seen my Invisibility Cloak and taken it away?"

"…Wow, I never thought about that. I just thought you were worried about taking all your gold. I admit, I'd probably filch a few Galleons for myself because I'm a terrible person."

"You're not terrible, and I wouldn't blame you. Hell, if anyone was stealing from my vault it should be you lot, I'd give you most if not all of it if you just asked. But that's the thing: Ask. I don't like other people going through my things, I've never owned anything of my own before Hogwarts and I am extremely protective of what I have. The thought of anyone just going through my stuff so casually like that without at least asking is horrifying to me."

"It could be that we're just not used to privacy in this house, I'll talk to her for you and she'll probably apologize immediately."

"Okay, thanks mate."

"You're grateful that she washed your socks, though, aren't you."

"…Well yes, but why just my socks, why not anything else."

"I have no idea."

* * *

"Everyone wears them, Ron!" said Mrs. Weasley crossly. "They're all like that! Your father's got some for smart parties!"

"Do they have lace on them?" said Ron stubbornly.

"…Well no."

"Look, can you at least hem them for me or something, I can't go around wearing lace, I'll be a laughing stock! I'm still not even sure I believe you that they're a thing!"

"Don't be so silly," said Mrs. Weasley. "You've got to have dress robes, they're on your list! I got some for Harry too…show him, Harry…"

In some trepidation, Harry opened the last parcel on his camp bed. It wasn't as bad as he had expected, however; his dress robes didn't have any lace on them at all — in fact, they were more or less the same as his school ones, except that they were bottle green instead of black.

"I thought they'd bring out the color of your eyes, dear," said Mrs. Weasley fondly.

"I'm touched," Harry began delicately, "but I don't think I would've chosen a Slytherin color. I'll reimburse you, but I think I'd prefer to get a set of robes from Hogsmeade on my own."

"Oh, of course, dear. It's all right, I understand if you don't like the color. And you don't owe me anything, I used your money to buy it for you."

"Yes, about that…could you please ask me the next time you need my vault key? I don't mind you using it, but what if someone else had taken it instead? I'm probably just paranoid but I like knowing where my things are."

"Of course, dear, of course."

"They're still better than this, though!" said Ron angrily, looking at Harry's robes. "Why couldn't I have some like that?"

"Because…well, I had to get yours secondhand, and there wasn't a lot of choice!" said Mrs. Weasley, flushing.

"Were there more options available if you hadn't been focused on maroon?"

"…Yes."

"Okay. You just told Harry you don't mind if we don't like the color, so…" Ron took a deep breath. "I've always hated maroon, and I've put up with the jumpers because I love you and didn't want to make you sad on Christmas. There." He let out a sigh of relief at having finally got that off his chest, but still eyed his mother with some trepidation.

Mrs. Weasley had tears in her eyes.

"Oh _Ronnie!"_ she cried, enveloping her youngest son in a hug; Harry looked away so Ron wouldn't be even more humiliated than he looked. "Why didn't you say so? There was actually a halfway decent set of teal robes that didn't have too many holes, I should've gotten you those, I'll take these back straight away if you prefer—"

"No, no, Mum, that's all right," said Ron, sounding slightly panicky. "I'll still wear these, if you just get rid of the lace for me, I don't think I'll do a very good job."

"Of course, absolutely!" said Mrs. Weasley, smiling brightly as she let go of Ron and took the robes out of his arms.

"…Well that went better than expected, eh?" said Harry after she left.

"Not a word of this to anyone," said Ron firmly, pointing at him.

"What, that you actually stood up to her? And _won? _C'mon, they'd love it! I bet Fred and George would even admit they were related to you!"

"Quit thinking up impossible scenarios that'll never happen."

* * *

Mrs. Weasley had braved the telephone in the village post office to order three ordinary Muggle taxis to take them into London.

"After two holidays in South England, I have some idea about the distances," said Kitty279, doing the math, "and if the taxi fees are about the same in Great Britain as Germany, that would be a few hundred pounds per taxi. From my experiences with the few times I had to use a taxi, you can estimate about fifteen pounds for ten kilometers, give or take, going by our prices and the current exchange rate. Okay, back then it was maybe a bit cheaper, but still...

"Now, according to the Harry Potter Lexicon," she went on, "the Burrow is near Exeter, and I checked online: on the road, it's 323 kilometers from Exeter to London. Add to that the time getting through such a huge city (right now, London has over eight million inhabitants)...that would take hours (much more than they have) and cost hundreds of pounds. IIRC, they called three taxis, so you can triple the amount. According to JKR, a galleon is about five pounds. Now remember how much money the Weasleys had in their vault...it makes no sense whatsoever.

"I mean, what on earth are Floo and Apparition for?" She shook her head in frustration. "They could have flooed to the Leaky Cauldron and gone from there, even if she wasn't able to take the kids one by one via side-along-apparition. And even if Molly didn't want to use the floo after that incident in the second book, there's the Knight Bus, which she should know. Easier, quicker, cheaper."

"_And_ they would've probably charged more at the end of the trip because of Pig's racket, the fireworks going off, and Crookshanks ripping up one of the drivers' legs," said iheartmwpp, staring at the chapter. "My own cat has left pretty deep scars on me and my parents, and he wasn't even freaked out at the time, there's no way he wouldn't charge extra for the extreme inconvenience or even just chuck them out on the way, especially when the fireworks went off."

"In any case," Kitty279 went on, "I never understood why everyone did everything the Muggle way. Can you see the Malfoys and other 'I'm better than everyone else' purebloods use the entrance to the platform from the Muggle side in King's Cross? And dress in a way that not every single Muggle would stare transfixed at them and force the Ministry to station a battalion of Obliviators there, which they clearly never do? A fireplace so people can Floo or an area where they could safely Side-Along Apparate in large numbers would make more sense."

"…The more we look at this stuff, the more nothing about travelling to Hogwarts makes any sense," grumbled iheartmwpp. "Hell, what about kids who already live in Scotland, or even right there in Hogsmeade, do _they_ have to go all the way to London just to ride back home or what? Also, they made such a big deal about running into the wall in the first couple of books, and it's always been shown to be like that in the films. In the later books, however, you can pretend to casually lean against it and slip through, which is admittedly less conspicuous, but then why does everyone make such a huge deal about running into it?" She read the passage carefully. "They were going through in _groups?!_ HOW IS THAT SMART, EVERYONE WILL NOTICE ALL OF THE THINGS."

* * *

"You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyes twinkling—okay, that is the third person whose eyes twinkle. Dumbledore, Lupin, and Bill are all related somehow…Lupin's a werewolf, Bill's eventually going to be a sort-of werewolf…Is Dumbledore one too, what the hell, WHAT IS THE CONNECTION, WHAT IS GOING ON.

* * *

"Well, you can enchant a building so it's impossible to put on a map, can't you?" said Hermione, who was explaining what Unplottable means before this section.

"Er…if you say so," said Harry. "I guess you can make a building impossible to put on a map and at the same time be completely unable to make clothes look newer or keep food fresh, that makes sense…But wait, how could Dad and the others have made the Marauder's Map if Hogwarts is Unplottable?"

"Just because you can't put it on a map doesn't mean you can't make a map _of_ it," said Ron. "They probably thought of that loophole as well."

"…That was clever, Ron," said Hermione, staring at Ron in shock.

"It's been known to happen," said Ron, trying not to look too pleased with himself.

* * *

Neville Longbottom was a round-faced, extremely forgetful boy who had been brought up by his formidable witch of a grandmother. Even knowing this is a magical world where witches and wizards do exist, this still sounds like an insult to us Muggle readers. You could've just said "formidable grandmother" and we would've gotten the point.

* * *

"Look at this!" said Malfoy in ecstasy, holding up Ron's robes and showing Crabbe and Goyle, "Weasley, you weren't thinking of _wearing_ these, were you? I mean — they were very fashionable in about eighteen ninety…"

"Then shouldn't you love them since they're the old fashioned Victorian crap the overly insane purebloods are obsessed with?" said Seamus.

Malfoy was silent for nearly a full minute.

"Can…Can I have these, Weasley?"

"Go for it," said Ron readily. Malfoy nodded at him and left, taking Crabbe and Goyle with him.

"And now you have no dress robes," said Hermione, looking at Ron over the top of her book.

"Let's see if they're even worth getting before worrying about it," said Ron uncaringly.

Harry suddenly snapped his fingers.

"'Now you have to buy me a Christmas present!'" he quoted back to Ron. Ron stared at him, puzzled, before his face lit up in understanding and he pointed at Harry.

"CHUDLEY CANNON ORANGE."

"No."

"Aww…Gryffindor red."

"Done."

"Awesome."

* * *

The rain was now coming down so thick and fast that it was as though buckets of ice-cold water were being emptied repeatedly over their heads.

"Hi, Hagrid!" Harry yelled, seeing a gigantic silhouette at the far end of the platform.

"All righ', Harry?" Hagrid bellowed back, waving. "See yeh at the feast if we don' drown!"

First years traditionally reached Hogwarts Castle by sailing across the lake with Hagrid. Apparently it didn't even matter if there was a hurricane; they were going to do it anyway no matter the clear and present danger they were causing to their incoming group of small children. When I was a baby kid and even in high school, field trips were cancelled and postponed all the time if it rained because the dudes in charge were _that_ paranoid about angry parents complaining about a kid even getting the sniffles. And the guys at Hogwarts are more than willing to potentially drown the youngest group of kids there. After all, it's tradition; that makes it okay. _HIP HIP HOORAY IT'S WEASEL STOMPING DAAAAAAY!_

* * *

…Guys. You were just soaking wet from freezing, pouring rain. A little extra moisture shouldn't bug you at all.

* * *

"Well, move along, then!" said Professor McGonagall sharply to the bedraggled crowd. "Into the Great Hall, come on! Don't even think about heading to the hospital wing to grab some Pepper-Up Potion or up to your common rooms to change into dry clothes so as to not catch pneumonia or hypothermia; just go in and eat in your soaking wet clothes that the floating candles won't be able to dry completely and drip everywhere, it's fine."

* * *

Harry glanced up at the ceiling too. It was enchanted to look like the sky outside, and he had never seen it look this stormy. Black and purple clouds were swirling across it, and as another thunderclap sounded outside, a fork of lightning flashed across it.

…Time for a funny little anecdote from my adolescence. When I was about fourteen or fifteen, I went to Vermont with the mother person, and some of her friends and her friends' children and relatives and her friend's relative's children. We were hanging out in a cottage by a lake, and across the lake was a little candy store. So me and four kids and three of them's father person went across in kayaks and canoes. While we were there, it started raining crazily. We figured we'd be stuck there for a long time, so we just started loitering in the store and I ate all my candy.

Due to the sugar, I started getting really antsy and bored and I announced I was just gonna kayak back across the lake. The ten-year-old non-child of the other three's father person wanted to come with, so she got on the back of the kayak and we started going across. Not too long after we set out it started thundering like nuts, but we both said fuck it and kept going. Well, we didn't actually _say_ fuck it, since the other girl was ten and I wasn't as incredibly vulgar as I am now, but the gist was there. We didn't see any lightning but we were sure it was there, and the whole time back we were making jokes about how our deaths would appear in the papers, stuff like "Two Idiots Electrocuted To Death On Lake" and other morbid happy fun stuff. The sugar boost wore off after the first third or so of the journey, but the last third I suddenly got a boost from the fact that I left my copy of PoA outside and it was still raining like crazy so I sped up _quite_ a bit after that.

We got inside and hung out and watched whatever dumb DVD I'd brought with me while the others eventually walked back after the thunder stopped and the rain calmed a little. And then, naturally, once our respective mother persons came back home from wherever they were shopping from that day, we got chewed out like mad because YOU AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE ON A BOAT IN THE WATER DURING A FUCKING THUNDERSTORM WE SHOULD'VE IMMEDIATELY HEADED FOR LAND SO AS NOT TO GET FUCKING ELECTROCUTED _ON THE FUCKING WATER_ THIS IS WHY I'M A TERRIBLE ROLE MODEL AND SHOULD NEVER BE RESPONSIBLE FOR ANOTHER HUMAN LIFE I SERIOUSLY THINK OUR ONLY SAVING GRACE WAS THE PADDLE WAS MADE OF PLASTIC AND EVEN THEN IT WOULD'VE BEEN NO GUARANTEE THAT WE WOULD'VE MADE IT **WE COULD HAVE FUCKING ****DIED**_** HOW THE FLYING FUCKING SHIT FUCKERS DID HAGRID AND DUMBLEDORE THINK LETTING THE CHILDREN GO ACROSS WAS A GOOD AND SAFE IDEA.**_

* * *

If Harry, Ron, and Hermione were wet, it was nothing to how these first years looked. They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with a combination of hypothermia and nerves as they filed along the staff table where apparently Madam Pomfrey was not located so she could've shouted at Dumbledore and taken everyone in for a Pepper-Up Potion and bed rest immediately—Dumbledore knows how to dry clothes. We've seen him do it. Hermione will know how to dry clothes by next year. It seems like a standard thing most adult wizards should know. Why isn't the staff trying to dry anyone, do they really want all the children they're in charge of to die before their first Charms class of the year or what.

Also wouldn't Hagrid's mokeskin overcoat be just as soaking wet as the rest of them and probably only increase Dennis's chance of getting pneumonia in particular, aren't you supposed to put _dry_ things on when horribly wet and cold?

* * *

Oh hey, Hufflepuffs are still hard workers at this point, that's nice.

* * *

"Colin, I fell in!" Dennis said shrilly, throwing himself into an empty seat. "It was brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back in the boat!"

"Cool!" said Colin, just as excitedly. "It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!"

"Can't believe we didn't already mention this," said Dracarot, "but the squid is a salt water organism that lives several thousand feet beneath the sea. What is a giant squid doing in a fresh water lake that is most certainly not deep enough for the squid's biology?"

"Here's hoping the giant squid _always_ trails after the boats like that just in case a kid falls in," muttered iheartmwpp darkly. "Imagine if there was a student who wasn't a very strong swimmer, and you either had turbulent weather or some kid on a boat who was just an asshole and rocked the boat too much and the kid drowned before they even got to Hogwarts, wouldn't _that _be a great thing to tell the parents. And what happens if that kid was Muggle-born, would they just erase the parents' memories completely so they don't remember even having a kid, seems like the kind of heartless thing the wizarding world would do."

"…In any case, the Black Lake, if it's even called that outside the movieverse, gets more and more unscientific when you add the new Pottermore stuff where we collected tubeworms, an organism that lives around deep ocean vents that are near the plate lines and tens of thousands off feet below the surface. Either the lake is ocean deep or this is artistic license incarnate."

"…Well yeah. Durmstrang ship later. And besides—"

"You are not allowed to throw It's Magic, You Don't Have To Explain it at me, I've tried that before and you got all up in my face about it," said Dracarot, glaring at iheartmwpp.

"…There was also seaweed in the lake for no raisin," iheart went on, "so let's just assume they put aquatic potion ingredients in the lake 'cause where else would we get them, and the giant squid is just there for awesomeness and creepy fanfic fodder."

"Also Did Not Do The Research."

"Also that."

"Like how there can totally be seaweed in certain lakes if it's filled with brackish water."

"…Shaddup."

* * *

Hermione had knocked over her golden goblet. Pumpkin juice spread steadily over the tablecloth—wait, since when did the house tables have tablecloths, that's new. Now I have to fix my whole headcanon, I've been watching the movies for too long…

* * *

Hermione stared at Nearly Headless Nick.

"But they get _payed?"_ she said. "They get _holidays_, don't they? And — and sick leave, and pensions, and everything?"

"…Dude," said Dean, who was suddenly privy to this conversation "how privileged are you that you think even normal human Muggle jobs come with sick leave and all that other stuff, there are a _lot_ that don't, you know."

"And house-elves don't even want sick leave and pensions!" said Nick after he stopped chortling, pushing his head back onto his shoulders and securing it once more with his ruff. "Demanding those things for an entire species that doesn't even want it when there are instances where your _own_ species doesn't get it might be going a touch too far."

Hermione looked down at her hardly touched plate of food, then put her knife and fork down upon it and pushed it away from her.

"Oh c'mon, 'Er-my-knee," said Ron, accidentally spraying Harry with bits of Yorkshire pudding. "Oops — sorry, 'Arry — " He swallowed. "Hunger strikes can only do so much, and somehow I doubt the house-elves would appreciate what you're doing all that much."

"Slave labor," said Hermione, breathing hard through her nose. "That's what made this dinner. _Slave labor."_

"No kidding, who do you think made your clothes?" Harry pointed out. "You're not going to start running around starkers in addition to your hunger strike, are you? 'Cause the only thing that'll achieve is you being arrested for indecent exposure."

"YOU KNOW NOTHING!"

* * *

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged, Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs—"

"WHAT IS THE POINT OF A FANGED FRISBEE SAVE FOR ASSASSINS WHO LOVE LUDICROUS WEAPONS," shouted Dracarot incredulously.

"Because children love toys that can irrevocably injure their hands, did you not have a childhood?" said iheartmwpp, dead-pan. "Actually, they could probably easily have gone up to their mummies and daddies and ask if they can reattach their bloody and mangled fingers with no problem. And we wonder why Hogwarts doesn't further scar people for life like it should."

"How do you people keep getting in here," said Dumbledore, disgruntled.

* * *

As Moody lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and Harry saw, below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.

"The wizard world can't come up with a more elegant solution than a huge prosthetic leg?" asked Mike Nelson of Rifftrax dot com.

"They're too busy making puke-flavored jelly beans," replied Kevin Murphy, also of Rifftrax dot com.

* * *

"The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards — until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

"Well at least they're admitting they want us all to die this time, that's refreshing," Hermione whispered, looking resigned. "How many decades or even centuries of dead children after dead children went on before the death toll was considered too high for the tournament to continue, I wonder…Furthermore, if they really wanted to 'establish ties between young witches and wizards'…has no one heard of exchange programs or field trips? Do we _really_ have to keep murdering children? This isn't _The Hunger Games_, people."

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which have been very successful, which I'm sure has you _bathed_ in confidence right now. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt, because what better time then a year after an infamous mad mass murderer escaped from our most secure prison and is still at large and the place where the tournament is going to be held was broken into multiple times and students threatened at knifepoint and actually injured and said alleged murderer escaped from right under the Minister of Magic's nose at the same location, proving it's not all that secure. No, I have no idea how or why the heads of the other two schools ever agreed to this.

"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the tree champions will take place at Halloween. One of the champions _will _be Harry Potter, let's not pretend otherwise here, I mean how many title characters does this series have?" The Great Hall was silent. "Ahem. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money. Which equates to five thousand pounds or ten thousand and seventy American dollars, which isn't really worth risking your life in my opinion but y'all are really dumb so…"

* * *

"Only students who are of age — that is to say, seventeen or older — will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration." The rest of Dumbledore's speech was drowned out by furious protests of outrage.

"Oh come _on!"_ Fred and George bellowed in unison. "We wanna die horribly in front of a large crowd of people, what gives?!" The rest of the eleven- through sixteen-year-olds loudly voiced similar profound concerns, and it took some time before Dumbledore could be heard again.

Oh and by the way, thanks for continuing to let us know that Fred and George's last name is Weasley like three times in as many pages, we really appreciate that. Which is sarcasm for FUCKING STOP ALREADY, WE FUCKING GET IT.

* * *

"People have died, though!" said Hermione in a worried voice as they walked through a door concealed behind a tapestry and started up another, narrower staircase.

"Yeah," said Fred airily. "Sounds like fun! Good, clean fun for kids. Even though it _is_ dangerous, and evil. Anyway, where's the fun without a little risk?"

"You sound like Sirius," said Harry, frowning. "This is why both of you die later."

":("

* * *

First time we got a moving suit of armor in this one…Alphonse, is that you? :3

* * *

_A/N: No, seriously, the kayaking thing really happened. To this day, whenever I hear thunder during warm weather and I'm not by myself, I usually joke about going kayaking or swimming, and then I make fun of whomever I'm talking to for not wanting to come with me. It's a fun way to make people seriously question your sanity._

_**Review or you'll be forced to practically swim across a lake filled with massive **_**sea**_** monsters during a thunderstorm so you'll probably get electrocuted to death and if you somehow manage to survive you'll still most likely die of hypothermia and/or pneumonia when none of the "responsible" adults allow you to put on dry clothing or magically dry your clothes for you in any way.**_


	4. H-E-R-P-E-S

_A/N: So. Fantastic Beasts is getting turned into a film series. Somehow. With Newt Scamander as the main character in New York in the 1920s or something? Should be interesting to see the Wizarding World OUTSIDE of Britain for once, especially in America; the CIA and NSA and Division and everyone else has GOT to be aware of a secret society living right under us, right? Maybe? (Merlin's pants, I just wrote Division. Marathoning Nikita seems to be taking its toll...)_

_...Is it weird that I'm not as enthused as I probably should be? I'm sure that once it's in production and actually out for us to watch and stuff I'll probably absorb everything in excitement and do happy spin dances of squee and everything, but right now...Ennhh?_

**Disclaimer:** Dracarot gave me the idea and a couple of suggestions to replace S.P.E.W. And then Dndchk was kind of made of awesome and I included both of our inability to come up with a thing for a thing for lols. Sarah1281 is also made of awesome, you really need to check out everything HP-related she's ever written. On an unrelated note, Electronic Arts did not create _Portal_, thankfully…But they did do the games for some dumb book series no one on this site wrote. That Quidditch one wasn't that bad, actually…Oh and the first _Sherlock Holmes_ movie. Also _Farscape_ is a show everyone should watch because it is awesome. Yes.

* * *

"Double Divination this afternoon," Harry groaned, looking down. Divination was wait why am I recapping this, you obviously know it.

"You should have given it up like me, shouldn't you?" said Hermione briskly, buttering herself some toast. "Then you'd be doing something sensible like Arithmancy, which is the exact same thing only with advanced mathematics."

* * *

"Pus, Finnegan, pus," said Professor Sprout, "and it's extremely valuable, so don't waste it. You will collect the pus, I say, in these bottles. Wear your dragon-hide gloves; it can do funny things to the skin when undiluted, bubotuber pus. Which is why we waited until all of you were in your fourth year at Hogwarts before showing them to you. The horrifyingly grotesque plants that will give you nightmares just looking at them and can literally kill you with their voice are perfectly fine to teach to second years, but the slimy stuff that can give you a bit of an easily cured if slightly painful temporary skin condition needed to wait until you were old enough to handle it."

* * *

…I never understood the OH DEAR GOD I HAVE A ZIT I WANT TO DIE thing back in middle and high school, anyone feel like explaining?

* * *

"On'y just' hatched," said Hagrid proudly, "so yeh'll be able ter raise 'em yerselves! Thought we'd make a bit of a project of it!"

"And why would we _want_ to raise them?" said a cold voice.

The Slytherins had arrived. The speaker was Draco Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were chuckling appreciatively at his words.

Hagrid looked angered by the question.

"I mean, what do they _do?"_ asked Malfoy. "What is the _point_ of them?"

Hagrid drew himself up.

"What's the point of _any_ animal?" he shot back. "What's the point of _us?_ Jus' what're _any_ of us meant to do? Ask yerself tha', Malfoy, an' _then_ ask why yeh would want ter raise 'em."

* * *

"Can I have a look at Uranus too, Lavender?" said Ron.

"Maybe in sixth year."

"Sweet."

:P

* * *

Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but only offered this small, unsatisfying answer to the _Daily Prophet_ when they questioned why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene:

"If I hadn't been here to control the Muggle reaction to Mad-Eye's latest freak-out, you'd be writing about how disgraceful it was that the Ministry didn't do anything to control the situation at all."

This shows a logical assessment of the situation as well as what the press and public's reactions would have been, showing a level of competency practically unseen by any in the Ministry. Clearly he's got to go.

* * *

Malfoy's pale face went slightly pink.

"Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter."

"Don't insult _other_ people's mothers, then, because that's what it feels like." Harry shook his head. "Honestly, I would've thought _your_ mother would've taught you not to resort to petty insults or even associating yourself in any way with people you consider to be beneath you. I thought you'd have been taught to act better than your average stereotypical school bully that, by the way, are extremely prevalent in _Muggle_ schools. If you want to prove you're better than us Muggle loving fools you'd better start acting like you actually _are_, starting with your behavior towards us. We are not worth your valuable time, therefore you should leave us alone."

* * *

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…"

"…Didn't you just curse _him_ when _his_ back was turned?" asked a rather brave Ravenclaw, who Moody immediately turned into a lemming.

* * *

"Moody, we _never_ use transfiguration as a punishment!" said Professor McGonagall weakly. "Physically beating them over and over until there's the possibility of half their bones being broken is perfectly acceptable, but _transfiguration?!_ Honestly, man, what kind of place do you think we're running here? Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"

"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, "but I thought a good sharp shock—"

"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House! The most we've ever done is occasionally chuck defenseless first years into the Forbidden Forest for a few hours late at night with minimal protection so they can hunt down something inexplicably evil and are never that harsh to them again!"

"Ooooh, I _like_ that last one!"

"Yes, but he's already done it, though, we can't be that harsh to him again for some reason, I just told you!"

"…This place sucks."

* * *

"What, aren't you staying?" Ron blurted out.

Moody's magical eye spun around to stare at Ron.

"I haven't even been teaching five minutes yet, and already I'm your favorite teacher?" he asked incredulously.

"…Er…"

* * *

Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor.

"Not nice," he said calmly. "Not pleasant. Even though there's no marks or blemishes or anything and apparently it's quicker than falling asleep actually. It's not as though there's a plethora of ghosts hereabouts that may well have been murdered by the Killing Curse that we could've asked about what it was like for them to be hit by it at any point in time…Although I could just mean that the sudden death just like that isn't all that pleasant, I suppose…"

* * *

…Why didn't Moody offer to take Harry to tea as well? Sure, Neville might not have appreciated it at first, but after he and Harry got to talking about their parents he would've gained a real friend in Harry. And from a purely practical standpoint on Junior's part, if Harry sees Neville get the book it'll reinforce that he has it so Harry could be more likely to ask the guy about the water plant book for help in the watery task and stuff.

* * *

"'Spew'?" said Harry, picking up a badge and looking at it. "What's this about?"

"Not _spew,"_ said Hermione impatiently. "It's S-P-E-W. Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"Never heard of it," said Ron.

"Well, of course you haven't," said Hermione briskly. "I've only just started it."

"…And that's the best you could come up with?" asked Ron, staring at her incredulously. "Why not something sensible instead of something that'll just remind people of vomit? No one wants to join a thing that makes people think of vomit, it'll _make_ them vomit!"

"Well if you have any bright ideas, I'd be happy to take them under consideration," said Hermione snappishly, crossing her arms.

"Okay, easy." Ron picked up one of the badges and started fiddling with it. "How about…the Equalists' Alliance? It could cover even more magical creatures that are supposedly oppressed that you could force your unwanted changes on."

"Hey, that's actually not a bad idea!" said Hermione, her face lighting up. Ron smacked himself.

"Sorry, but you can't actually use E.A. as an acronym," said Harry, now causing Ron to stare at him hopefully. "A video game-making company called Electronic Arts already exists, so…"

"Okay, let's bring it back to elves," said Ron as Hermione's face fell. "How about…the Elfish Rights Association?"

"E.R.A.?"

"Yeah."

"Not only a real estate agency but also short for 'earned run average' which is a statistic for a Muggle sport called baseball."

"…That sounds both complicated and boring."

"So's baseball."

Hermione snorted.

"Right, passing over dumb Muggle sports…" Ron started throwing the badge up into the air and catching it. "How about Stop Hurting Our Elves?"

"Absolutely not," said Harry instantly. "Sarah1281 already came up with that in her masterful epic _Oh God, Not Again._ Also it might stand for other things."

"Oh. Hmm…League of Equality for Elves and People?"

"L.E.E.P. already stands for a medical procedure that treats cervical cancer and similar issues," Hermione answered.

"Isn't Cancer a just constellation and a zodiac sign?" asked Ron.

Harry and Hermione gaped at him.

"I hate purebloods," Hermione concluded after a time.

"Why, what'd I say?"

"Never mind," said Harry quickly. "Look, if we can't come up with something completely sensible, let's just at least come up with something that doesn't sound like vomit."

There was silence for a few moments, before Hermione cleared her throat.

"…I've had other ideas but they've all come out to be rather…well, indecent."

"Well now we have to hear them," said Ron, putting his badge back into the box and sitting up eagerly.

"…I've thought of…Bringing Our Nation Elf Rights."

Ron cackled.

"Oh, that is genius right there!"

"Ooooh, I've got a bad one," said Harry eagerly. "We Help Others Recognize Elves As Sentient Someones." He chuckled to himself.

"W-H-O-R—Oh that's _brilliant!"_ cried Ron, nearly falling out of his chair.

"It's terrible!"Hermione protested, trying to hide her grin.

"Okay, need to top that one, hmm…Promoting Elf Nations In Society?" suggested Ron.

"Bit weak after mine…House-elves Obtain Rights by Next Year!" cried Harry. "Which is also a bit weak but I don't care."

"Gain Legal rights And Don't Oppress Sentients," said Hermione. "I'm aware that 'sentients' isn't a word but I wanted to do one that wasn't completely filthy."

"Yes, because you actually played _Portal,"_ said Harry sarcastically.

"Enh, everyone knows about the cake reference, that's all you need. Also why are we discussing a game that won't come out till 2007."

"Hey, if Dudley can have a PS1 already even though it won't be released in its country of origin until December, I see no problem with talking about PS3 and 360 games."

"Which is probably the logic everyone uses to have us bring iPods to Hogwarts despite this taking place in the nineties."

"Exactly."

"I hate everything."

"I'm going to pretend to understand what you two are talking about while I suggest Free Underrepresented Creatures with Kindness," said Ron.

"Ha!" said Harry, smiling broadly.

"Could you _be_ anymore vulgar?" asked Hermione.

"I'll let you know when I come up with one that fits F.A.R.T."

Hermione's nose wrinkled.

"Never Oppress Other Beings," she said at length.

"Somehow I don't think you'll be able to do that one," said Harry slowly, "lest you constantly get insulted as having extremely limited experience every time you try to promote this. Don't Oppress Underrepresented Creatures like House-Elves, on the other hand, will ensure that you're never insulted at all."

"I will hurt you."

"Will you? Or will you thank me for coming up with House-Elf Rights and Promoters of Equality in Society?"

"Do that one!" Ron all but yelled, pointing at Harry. "That is my favorite one so far, it must be done!"

"We are _not_ labeling a group that's supposed to be taken seriously _'Herpes'!"_ shouted Hermione, stamping her foot.

"It's _not _herpes, though," said Ron laughingly. "It's H-E-R-P-E-S!"

"I will shove _all_ these badges up your nostrils."

"Of course you will," laughed Harry.

"Oh!" Ron yelled suddenly. "T.I.S.A.H.W.O.T.!"

"Tisahwot?" asked Harry, thoroughly confused. "The hell is that?"

"This Is Such A Huge Waste Of Time!"

"PERFECT!"

"I hate you," said Hermione. "With all of my hate."

"I.H.Y.W.A.O.M.H.?" said Ron.

"Calm down, dude," said Harry. "And even though I was joking, I really do think we should expand this group to something beyond house-elves."

"Because they're so insignificant that they don't deserve any rights?" said Hermione hotly.

"That's not what I meant at all," said Harry, holding up his hands placatingly. "I meant that we could help other groups of underrepresented peoples in _addition_ to house-elves."

"Well I _was_ going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status — but it wouldn't fit on the badges, so that's where S.P.E.W. came from."

"H.E.R.P.E.S. could still work," said Ron, smirking.

"I will _end_ you."

"I'm sure you will."

"I do still like that idea, though," said Harry, sitting up eagerly. "Maybe we could help change things for werewolves as well so Lupin could come back and teach again without needing to worry about the parents' reactions to him!"

"That's actually a really good idea," said Ron. "Not sure about his reaction to being called a magical creature, though…"

"Good point. I should write to him, find out what we can do, if there's even anything we _can_ do."

"If you're willing to attach the Boy Who Lived name to it, there's probably a lot we could do."

Harry sighed.

"If it'll really help…" he muttered reluctantly. "I'll talk to Lupin about it, see what he thinks about any of this." He turned to Hermione. "Mind helping me word it correctly? I don't want to be insensitive about this."

Hermione looked uncomfortable.

"I wasn't really thinking about other oppressed magical beings," she confessed. "I was really only thinking about house-elves. I'm going to have to do a lot more research now…"

"What, you mean you only looked up those magical creatures who seem perfectly content with their lot in life?" said Ron scathingly. "Lupin seems poorer than _my_ family, at least Dad has steady employment and we can apparently afford as much food as we want, Lupin always looked on the verge of collapse from starvation!"

"And if he's any indication," said Harry, "there are probably hundreds if not thousands of people in his situation, unable to find any kind of employment and therefore unable to _eat._ Lupin said he was bitten when he was very young, think of all the children who are probably starving in the streets right now!"

"They wouldn't be starving in the streets," said Hermione impatiently, "their parents would look after them, just like Lupin's did."

"I think Lupin was a special case," said Ron darkly. "Prejudice against werewolves runs pretty deep here, you saw my initial reaction. I have a feeling that a lot of kids were abandoned or flat-out 'put down' after being bitten."

"And just because you're family doesn't always mean there's love involved," Harry muttered bitterly.

"Fine," said Hermione snappishly. "We can focus on werewolves at the same time as house-elves, then." She brandished the sheaf of parchment at them.

"Oh for the love of Merlin," Ron mumbled, his head sinking into his hands.

"I've been researching it thoroughly in the library," said Hermione, ignoring Ron. "Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can't believe no one's done anything about it before now."

"Hermione — open your ears," said Ron loudly. "They. Like. It. They _like_ being enslaved!"

"Have you even _talked_ to a house-elf other than Winky?" asked Harry.

"No, but the library had all the information I needed—"

"Were any of those books written by house-elves?"

"No, but several experts—"

"Professor Emerett Picardy, apparent 'expert' on werewolves, said they should all be put to death because they're all evil," said Ron. Harry and Hermione stared at him. "What? I started that research Snape wanted us to do even if I didn't actually do the essay! My point is, there _is_ a book written by an anonymous werewolf called _Hairy Snout, Human Heart_, where a member of an oppressed group of people stands up and speaks for themselves. If house-elves actually _wanted_ to do that, they'd have done so by now, or at least contacted someone to help them."

"But Harry was just talking about changing things for werewolves!"

"Yes, but he had the right idea of contacting Lupin before taking any action. You need to make sure your efforts will be appreciated before you push yourself over anyone's limit."

"Oh what do you know!"

"A lot more about the culture I was born into than you do!"

"As an outsider, I can better see what's wrong with your culture and try to do what's right to fix it!"

"Want _you_ think is right doesn't mean we'll see it that way! And you have absolutely no right to try to change another's culture just because you think an aspect of it is wrong!"

"_Slavery_ is wrong, Ron!"

"Some would argue that taking away one's _job_ is wrong, _Hermione!"_

"WOW this could go on indefinitely," Harry whispered, cowering behind the sofa.

* * *

Does no one ever clean the Owlery? Like, ever?

* * *

"That was a _lie,_ Harry," said Hermione sharply over breakfast, when he told her and Ron what he had done. "You _didn't_ imagine your scar hurting and you know it."

"…Well now we have a keen grasp of the obvious," said Harry. "Besides, what does it matter if I did? He's not going back to Azkaban because of me."

"Drop it," said Ron sharply to Hermione, showing that once again one shouldn't attempt to give lessons on tact when one is so often inept oneself.

* * *

…You need a parent's signature to buy chocolate in Honeydukes but not to have an exceptionally illegal curse placed on you? M'kay, makes sense.

* * *

Dean Thomas, thanks for that by the way, I had no idea what his last name was, hopped three times around the room, singing the national anthem, of which I've been told there is more than one and possibly even more than that if wizards have their own secret happy version, so that tells us nothing. Fun fact: I, an isolated and rather stupid ten-year-old, totally thought he was singing the Star-Spangled Banner. What was _wrong_ with me.

* * *

Okay, I've had it. Would it not be better to just transfigure objects into other objects? Where are you even gonna _find_ a hedgehog to turn into a pincushion? By the time you've tracked one down, it will have been easier and less time-consuming to just buy a frelling pincushion! And does the animal _die_ once it's been transfigured? Forget house-elves, students should start complaining about the rampant animal cruelty that takes place at Hogwarts!

* * *

Professor Flitwick had asked them to read three extra books in preparation for their lesson on Summoning Charms. How does one write even one book solely about the Summoning Charm. What would be in that thing aside from the friggin' incantation. Would it be just a list of all the things people have ever Summoned or would it contain a morality tale to stop people from flat-out stealing all of the things or what.

* * *

"Diggory's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch," said Hermione. "I've heard he's a really good student — _and_ he's a prefect."

She spoke as though this settled the matter.

"So was Tom Riddle," said Ron slyly.

Hermione didn't speak to him for the rest of the day.

* * *

Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. One wonders why they didn't just hide or piss off entirely when Filch or the house-eves stopped by; it's not as though they could be forced or anything, they're portraits, they can do whatever they want. Unless they were Stunned, but Filch can't do that, so…

* * *

Yes, McGonagall, continue being a dick to Neville, we all greatly appreciate it.

* * *

"Who are the judges?" Harry asked.

"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel," said Hermione, and everyone looked around at her, rather surprised that she knew the answer to an obscure question as if that had never happened before, "because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage. And after that, naturally everyone thought it would be a good idea to try to reinstate the Tournament again, why wouldn't they."

"What's a cockatrice?" asked Harry.

"It's like a dragon-like creature with a rooster's head." Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "It's far more terrifying than it sounds, I'm sure."

"…Do they exist in our universe, though?"

"I just mentioned it so probably, I don't see why it can't."

"But it's not mentioned in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them."_

"They could be extinct or something."

"I guess. But I'm sure the people in charge have learned their lesson and won't be including any dragon-like beings in their Triwizard Tournaments ever again."

"I'm sure you're right, Harry. I mean, the Ministry couldn't possibly be _that_ stupid…"

* * *

"_House-elves!"_ said Hermione, her eyes flashing. "Not once, in over a thousand pages, does _Hogwarts, A History_ mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!"

"Probably a lot more than a hundred by now," said Ron.

"Exactly!"

"Been meaning to ask about that, actually," said Harry. "Does the book happen to mention all the secret passageways in and out of the castle and where they are? Or anything substantial about the Chamber of Secrets, or even the Room of Requirement?"

"No, why?"

Harry shrugged.

"Maybe we shouldn't be surprised that some things are missing, is all."

"And it might be considered common knowledge, anyway," Ron added. "Maybe sometimes people don't add things because they take it for grated that everyone already knows it or something."

* * *

George leaned in toward Hermione.

"Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?"

"No, of course not," said Hermione curtly. "I hardly think students are supposed to go in there, which completely and utterly prevented me from making Polyjuice in the past, obviously."

"Well, we have," said George, indicating Fred, "loads of times, to nick food. And we've met them, and they're _happy_. They think they've got the best job in the world—"

"That's because they're uneducated and brainwashed!" Hermione began hotly, but George cut her off.

"You do realize you sound exactly like the European settlers did when they tried taking over Native American villages and converting them to Christianity by force, don't you?" he said coldly.

Hermione stared back defiantly, but her cheeks were pink.

* * *

"Weasley, straighten your hat," Professor McGonagall snapped at Ron. Do they really still have those bloody things, honestly…

* * *

"A Portkey?" Ron suggested. "Or they could Apparate — maybe you're allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?"

"You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, how often do I have to tell you?" said Hermione impatiently.

"They could Apparate outside the grounds and walk through the gates, couldn't they?"

"…Okay, I'll give you that one."

* * *

Harry, whose attention had been focused completely on Madam Maxime, now noticed that about a dozen BOYS AND GIRLS, MOVIE, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madam Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. You'd think they'd have done some research on weather conditions in Scotland and packed accordingly; you don't go from Hawaii to Alaska and only pack a jumper or two. Or is JKR taking this opportunity to start making fun of the French.

* * *

Were the horses drunk-flying, I wonder.

* * *

Dafuq did that ship get there, lakes are cut-off bodies of water usually, yes?

* * *

"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," said Hermione.

"For heaven's sake, Hermione, Lockhart's only an author," Ron shot back.

* * *

It was the girl from Beauxbatons who had laughed during Dumbledore's speech. She had finally removed her muffler. A long sheet of silvery-blonde hair fell almost to her waist. She had large, deep blue eyes, and very white, even teeth. And as the only Beauxbatons student who will ever be mentioned or given a description apart from their uniforms, there is absolutely _no way_ she'll end up being the champion—oh wait. -_-

* * *

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "because a contest for teenagers is, of course, leagues more important than trying to hunt down an alleged mass murderer that apparently the Ministry lied about pulling out all the stops for; you'd think the other participating schools would be worried about such a person being able to break into the school they'll be staying at with apparent ease, but you'd be wrong. Therefore, Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madam Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts. Please kindly ignore the heavy bias in favor of Britain and how there are no French or Wherever Durmstrang's From ministry officials to also partake in the judging process."

* * *

"Once a champion has been selected by the Title of the Book, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end, meaning they can't forfeit immediately but there's nothing against forfeiting each task as it comes so that may be a loophole perhaps, it's not clear. The placing of your name in the Title constitutes a binding, magical contract, the details of which shall always be incredibly nonexistent."

* * *

"Professor, _I_ vood like some vine," said one of the other Durmstrang boys hopefully.

"I wasn't offering it to _you_, Poliakoff," snapped Karkaroff. Hey cool, we got _two_ named people from Durmstrang, maybe it'll be someone other than the only one given a crapload of attention to. Hey, someone write a thingy where Poliakoff gets selected instead, I'd read the shit outta that.

* * *

"Are you seventeen, then?" asked Harry.

"'Course she is, can't see a beard, can you?" said Ron.

"I had my birthday last week," said Angelina. "And yet I'm still in the same year as Fred and George, but I'm sure this is just an isolated incident and can never be repeated by anyone ever. Ever. **_EVER."_**

* * *

You'd think Hermione would listen to Hagrid, at least; questionable though his teaching methods may be at times, he does know his magical creatures.

* * *

_A/N: Oh yeah, Hufflepuff has finally FOUND a way to win the House Cup on Pottermore. I remember a time when I cared. Seriously, the only thing that I FIND myself to be remotely interested in now is new artwork and information that comes with updates. And the next thing I'm interested in is Sirius's biography. Which we most likely won't be able to FIND until Pottermore gets to OotP. In six years or so because I am FINDING GoF to be rather long, and even if it wasn't I have FOUND Pottermore updates to be annoyingly spaced out over several months or more. Although at least the latest batch of info gave us a lot to think about, I'm still FINDING it difficult to digest that my cat's name has apparently been Edward this whole time...Eh, I FIND that less bothersome than I expected, as I do enjoy Fullmetal Alchemist a great deal. ;D_

_**Review or I **_**won't**_** refer to S.P.E.W. as H.E.R.P.E.S. for the rest of the parody. X3**_


	5. Are You Kids Ready To Fight A DRAAGOOON?

_A/N: ConManTheMovies: It was the part where Arthur said "and other adjectives as well," I think Eddie said that somewhere in Dressed to Kill or something. ;)_

_Sp I've got a non-funny theory that I'm just gonna put up here because I don't really think I can put it in the chapter proper because this is mainly funny-ish: I think I just figured out another reason why Ron was pissed at Harry. Of course he instantly got jealous of the guy again the moment his name came out; the guy always gets all the attention while Ron's always getting ignored by everyone, even his own family seems to prefer Harry to him (Molly's always shouting at Ron and Fred and George _never_ stop bullying him) and as he never got much attention from them to start with now he's getting even less (Remember that time Percy got an owl _and_ new robes but Ron didn't even get a wand during his first year at Hogwarts?). And frankly he wasn't the only one who noticed that Molly and Arthur conveniently stopped having kids after they finally got one with fallopian tubes. Right from when we first meet him, Ron's depressed about the fear of not being able to live up to his brothers, and then he makes the idiotic decision to befriend the smartest girl in the year and the boy who all the extraordinary things always happens to. THAT'S gonna get him noticed, right—Oh wait, no, it only means he's overshadowed more. HOORAY!_

_So Harry and Ron have kind of been joking about finding a way to compete since the Tournament was announced, Ron probably more serious than Harry. Now in this version, Harry never said he _didn't_ want to do it, that was in the film version. And then Harry's name gets called...Ever have an event or something that you kind of want to go to but can't afford it or something and you talk with a friend about casually wanting to go and they're interested in it as well so you jokingly make plans to go together? And a week later they post on Facebook how great it was and you're just staring blankly at the screen? And then you check every method you have of getting into contact with that person to make sure they didn't invite you and it turns out they really didn't? And then they seem surprised when you ignore their emails for a bit? I feel like that's really why Ron's upset, aside from the jealousy thing; Harry said he'd do it at night where no one would pay attention. Ron's pissed-off brain immediately deludes itself to thinking that that's exactly what Harry did, because it's impossible to think rationally when you're angry, why do you think Hermione insists on keeping herpes going. Ron's pissed because Harry didn't take Ron with him, so they'd have an equal shot at eternal glory and probably more money than Ron's ever heard of in his life: this whole amazing experience that now Ron will have no chance at. And he's convinced Harry entered it without him._

_What can I say? I know that feel. And it _totally_ warrants a short period of not talking to the other person, it's always the trivial things that start the biggest arguments. Not a full month, though, that was just those two being idiots...maybe a few days, a week tops._

**Disclaimer:** Kitty279 was once again entirely made of awesome when it came to the section on the names coming out of the Title of the Book that I Did Not Write. And _Yu-Gi-Oh! The Abridged Series_ as well as _Code MENT_ are always good for a laugh and to steal numerous lines from, as are Rifftrax and _A Very Potter Musical._ Also has ANYONE seen the _Clue_ movie besides me.

* * *

What would happen if Harry just refused to move after his name was called? And when the teachers finally came down to get him he protested right then that he didn't put his name in and doesn't know what's going on in front of the entire hall?

* * *

"But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," Fleur said contemptuously to Bagman. "'E cannot compete. 'E is too young. You said zat no one under ze age of seventeen would be allowed to compete, so would 'e not be disqualified automatically? Isn't zat a loophole you could use? _Shouldn't_ you disqualify 'im automatically?"

* * *

"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. _"Two_ Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me we could have four champions total. How can it be a _Tri_wizard Tournament with four teams?"

* * *

Professor Dumbledore was now looking down at Harry, who looked right back at him, trying to discern the expression of the eyes behind the half-moon spectacles.

"Did you put your name in the Title of the Book, Harry?" he said calmly, not once even considering throwing Harry into any of the pieces of furniture that surrounded them nor endeavoring to strangle him in any way.

"Is my name written in my handwriting?" Harry retorted.

Dumbledore quickly showed the piece of paper to McGonagall and Snape. McGonagall immediately shook her head and Snape did also, though he looked sour when he did it.

"It appears that it was not," said Dumbledore.

"Even if it was, it could've been a forgery," said Harry, "since I did _not_ put my name in." He was very aware of everybody watching him closely but made no further attempt to explain that he never even seriously considered entering in the first place whatsoever.

"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Title of the Book for you?" said Professor Dumbledore.

"We could've done _that _this whole time?!" cried Harry incredulously. "Man, wait till I tell _absolutely everyone_ that, Fred and George'll be so pissed…Hang on," he said slowly, his eyes narrowing. "If you're even entertaining the possibility that an older student or person in general could've done it for me, then why are you even thinking about blaming me instead of perhaps questioning every single upperclassman or adult who was far more likely to have done it?"

"Because shut up."

"Aww…"

"Wait, no, let's follow this theory through," said Professor McGonagall, actually acting ever so slightly responsible for once. "Who would you even suspect of doing so in the first place, Mr. Potter?"

"Professor Moody," said Harry instantly.

Professor Moody let out a low, gravelly laugh.

"With your track record, I can't say I blame you for that," he said, smirking.

"I trust Professor Moody implicitly, Harry," said Professor Dumbledore in a tone that brokered no argument.

"Fine, then I'd say Draco Malfoy bullied some seventh-year Slytherin into it," Harry went on.

"Of course you'd say that," Snape said scathingly.

"Or you did it, those are my only guesses at this point."

"I also trust Professor Snape implicitly," said Dumbledore, now carrying a warning tone in his voice.

"I hate everything," muttered Harry.

* * *

"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter," growled Moody, "but…funny thing…I don't hear _him_ saying a word…Possibly because I Confunded him just now when I came in so he wouldn't say anything, who's to know, really…"

"If not, I suspect I'm too busy wetting myself to think straight and therefore speak properly," Harry commented. "Also none of you are really giving me a chance to speak for myself or are asking my opinion on this or anything, Thanks for that, by the way."

"It _is_ odd that we're not involving him more in this, at least to try to find out how he did it even though we've pretty much cemented that he couldn't have done it…" said McGonagall.

"There's no need for that, Minerva," said Dumbledore genially. "Let us just keep discussing the person who's been entered as if he were an adult as the extremely small and incapable child person that he is and as if he's not even in the room."

"I swear to God…Wait, am I emancipated now or whatever?" asked Harry. "Since a powerful magical object is now seeing me as an adult or something?"

"…I have no idea. Let's go with not."

"Balls."

* * *

"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!" said Moody. "It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament…I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category…"

"What was the fourth school?" asked Cedric, genuinely curious.

"We will never know…OOOOOH IT'S SO MYSTERIOUS."

"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody," said Karkaroff coldly, "and a very ingenious theory it is — though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. Now, I suppose I could understand if the clock had been in the shape of a toad sitting atop an egg, but if not, you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously…"

"That _is_ a rather ingenious theory, though," said Snape. "A Confundus Charm of the magnitude you are describing would indeed seem far beyond the talents of a mere fourth year. However, Potter has shown an unusual talent for producing a fully formed Patronus when he was merely thirteen. I don't believe it prudent to completely rule Potter out at this stage." His smirk grew, if possible, even more malicious.

"Oh would you just use Legilimency on me like I'm sure you usually do," spat Harry. _"I didn't bloody do it!"_

"Wonder why I'm not putting my foot down and at least confirming that it had to have been someone else," said Dumbledore, stroking his beard in thought. "If I at the very least put a show of admitting that Harry didn't enter his name in front of the packed Great Hall during some mealtime or other, it would probably go a long way to making his life easier during the Tournament…"

"That's a brilliant idea, Professor!" said Harry gratefully.

"Which is exactly why I won't be doing it!" said Dumbledore happily.

"…I don't like you much."

"Why ever not?"

"Burn everything to the ground. That's what I'll do."

* * *

"How this situation arose, we do not know," said Dumbledore, speaking to everyone gathered in the room. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. This is the only action we will take. No one apart from the Heads of the other two schools is ever going to protest this course of action even though myself and Professor McGonagall at least are ultimately responsible for the safety of this underage student placed under our care so we're just going to throw him right into the Tournament designed specifically for of-age and better trained students. We're _certainly_ not going to call in anyone from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or even any Unspeakables to try and piece together who could have done this or how or why, that would just be silly. For all we keep wondering how this could've happened, we seem to be spending far more time standing around and being grumpy about the fact that it happened then we are trying to figure out how it was done, at least to make sure it doesn't happen again. And before you ask, no, cancelling the extremely dangerous tournament where kids _die_ is entirely out of the question. Apparently."

* * *

"The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. Asking the other judges or their friends or anyone other than a teacher is perfectly acceptable, though, go nuts."

* * *

I wonder, even if Crouch Jr. wasn't actually in the room at the time, if he was hiding just outside and used the power of the Imperius Curse to prevent his father from letting slip any sort of loophole whatsoever that would ensure that Harry wouldn't have to participate in the tournament, since he _did_ come into the room soon after.

* * *

"Harry, this isn't going to be kept quiet," said Hermione, very seriously. "This tournament's famous, and you're famous. I'll be really surprised if there isn't anything in the _Daily Prophet_ about you competing, as the wizarding world is just that interested in this contest for teenagers."

* * *

…Do squids eat toast?

* * *

The Slytherins howled with laughter. Each of them pressed their badges too, until the message _POTTER STINKS_ was shining brightly all around Harry. He felt his confusion rising.

"I…stink?" he repeated slowly. Blinking, he raised his left arm and sniffed his armpit. It smelled fine to him but he figured he should play along. Faking a look of extreme disgust, he jerked his face away and staggered a little. "Merlin's beard, you're right! I'm sorry, I was so worried about _dying horribly in front of everyone_ that I've been forgetting to shower recently, I promise I'll shower as soon as class is over. And I _will_ use soap this time, promise!"

Malfoy and the other Slytherins just stared at him while the Gryffindors chortled.

* * *

Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi.

"Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly.

"Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. _"Look!"_

He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth — she was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back.

Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."

Hermione let out a whimper; her eyes filled with tears. She turned on her heel and ran, ran all the way up the corridor and out of sight.

"I am _so_ partially naming my kid after you, sir," said Harry, gazing up at Snape in adoration.

"See, _that_ right there is the perfect anvil-sized hint for why she ends up with me and not you," said Ron, throwing up his hands in frustration and disgust.

* * *

Snape's eyes met Harry's, and Harry knew what was coming. Snape was going to poison _him_. Heh, imagine if Harry's antidote didn't work and Snape couldn't reverse it and Harry died. Think he still would've had to compete in the tournament?

* * *

"Very _well!"_ said Snape. "Potter — take your bag and get out of my sight!"

"Nah, I'm good," said Harry, adding some more eye of newt to his cauldron because I needed him to add something to his cauldron.

"But Harry, Mr. Bagman said—"

"Colin, do you think you could tell Mr. Bagman for me that I may not have to do the end of year exams this year but I am still very concerned about the O.W.L.s and need to focus on my schoolwork, so could I do whatever it is they want me to do sometime after Professor Snape poisons me?"

"…I guess so." Giving Harry an odd look, Colin slowly backed out of the classroom.

"…So wait, you'd rather Snape poison you than go through a photo shoot?" said Seamus, staring at Harry incredulously.

"Pretty much," said Harry.

"…You are a very strange person."

"I know."

* * *

"And then there's going to be a little photo shoot," Bagman went on. "This is Rita Skeeter," he added, gesturing toward the witch in magenta robes. "She's doing a small piece on the tournament for the _Daily Prophet_, which has decided to send in an obvious gossip columnist instead of some kind of sports reporter to cover a _tournament_. Dumbledore has apparently consented to letting the person who has ruined the reputations of so many people cover the barely of-age and distinctly underage champions, since there is absolutely no way this will come back to bite us later."

* * *

…Did JKR write a Gary Stu and call him Cedric Diggory or what.

* * *

Oh thank you _so_ much for reminding us of Fleur's surname twice in as many pages, we haven't quite learned it yet, much appreciated.

* * *

_Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school._

The moment the article had appeared, Harry had sought out Colin and told him flat-out that Hermione wasn't his girlfriend. When Colin tried to apologize, Harry just shook his head and walked away, giving him the silent treatment from that moment onwards.

And then he and Hermione researched wizarding lawyers, sued the _Daily Prophet_ for misrepresenting them, and forced them to publish a retraction. All was well.

* * *

"He's not even good-looking!" Hermione muttered angrily, glaring at Krum's sharp profile. "They only like him because he's famous! They wouldn't look twice at him if he couldn't do that Wonky Faint thing—"

"Wronski Feint," said Harry through gritted teeth. "You read _Quidditch Through the Ages_ three years ago and have never had a problem remembering the slightest detail of what you read or what people have said, so why are you getting this wrong now."

* * *

"Hermione," said Harry, taking a swig of butterbeer under his cloak, "when are you going to give up on this herpes stuff?"

"When house-elves have decent wages and working conditions!" Hermione hissed back.

"Okay, working conditions I can totally get behind," said Harry slowly. "Thinking what Dobby must've had to go through with the Malfoys…But if they really don't want wages, you really shouldn't try to force them to do something they don't want to do. They'll just end up being resentful of you and then no one will take you seriously without support from the group you're trying to help. And besides, if house-elves start demanding to be paid, their masters might just free them so they don't have to deal with them, so suddenly you have hundreds of homeless elves in addition to all the homeless humans we have now."

"Which is why we have to change the way wizards view elves in the first place!" Hermione shot back.

"You'll have a tough job doing that without support from the elves themselves, is all I'm saying," said Harry, shrugging before he remembered that Hermione couldn't see him. "And if the elves don't agree with what you're trying to help them do, then no one will listen to you."

"Why wouldn't they want to be treated better, though?"

"Maybe they believe they're being treated perfectly fine as they are, except for the odd abusive family now and then, which could be said for all human cases anyway. Maybe it's their culture or even their religion and we shouldn't try to force them to do something against their beliefs. Maybe they're just a race of masochists, I don't know."

"Harry, be serious about this."

"Hey, it's a perfectly acceptable theory that should be taken into account since you _won't actually talk to a fucking elf."_

"I _have_ been starting to think it's time for more direct action. I wonder how you get into the school kitchens?"

"No idea, ask Fred and George or write to Sirius."

Hermione lapsed into thoughtful silence.

* * *

"Can your eye — I mean, can you — ?"

"Yes, it can see through Invisibility Cloaks," Moody said quietly. "And Deathly Hallows, apparently."

* * *

Harry got up on Sunday morning and dressed so inattentively that it was a while before he realized he was trying to pull his hat onto his foot instead of his sock—okay, I did a thing like two parodies ago where Riddle wearing a hat was the last time the hats are ever mentioned, they really need to either put them in and keep them in or stop mentioning them, even Pottermore doesn't show them wearing them most of the time.

* * *

They walked three times around the lake, trying all the way to think of the tiniest loophole that would get Harry out of the Tournament alive. Nothing whatsoever came to them, so they retired to the library instead. Here, Harry pulled down every book he could on the Triwizard Tournament, and both of them set to work searching through the small pile.

"Here's one, bloke called Michael Chase in 1536, got through to the Second Task and…jumped off the Astronomy Tower, right, should probably get that idea out of my head, tempting though it may be at this point in my life…"

"'_Despite choosing to forfeit at the beginning of the First Task because of her Boggart turning into a raging inferno that she couldn't escape, Durmstrang champion Mira Ognyanov still managed to win the Beauxbatons Triwizard Tournament of 1474 by doing exceptionally well throughout the rest of the competition'_…Harry, I think this is it!"

"You really think I could just forfeit at the start of the First Task?" said Harry, staring at Hermione and trying not to look too hopeful.

"I think so, yes!" said Hermione, now eagerly flipping through the pages of _Made-Up Yet Plausible Ways to Bypass Triwizard Tournament Regulations_. "I don't think it's possible to quit out of the Tournament altogether—"

"Right, that'd be too easy, we can't have that," muttered Harry.

"—Dumbledore said you have to see the Tournament through to the end once your name comes out of the Goblet, so you'll still have to show up to each Task, but it doesn't appear like you actually have to do anything once you do!" Hermione concluded, her face flushed with excitement.

Harry gaped at her, a feeling of hope starting to bloom in his stomach.

"I would be dead without you, you realize this," he said seriously.

"Hey, I just don't want to see my best friend get eaten by a dragon," said Hermione, though she seemed rather pleased with herself.

* * *

None of the books on dragons mentioned the eyes as a weak point? Not a single one of them? Really?

* * *

"I don't think Cedric is in the same year as the twins or they would have been able to enter the tournament too."

"Cedric is one year ahead of Fred and George. The twins' seventh year is in book five; book four is Cedric's."

"Hey, love your work! Just one little thing I wanted to point out, hope that's alright. Cedric and the twins are in different years. Cedric's a seventh year and the twins are in their sixth year."

…

[By the time Harry reached the bottom of the marble staircase, Cedric was at the top. **He was with a load of sixth-year friends.** Harry didn't want to talk to Cedric in front of them; they were among those who had been quoting Rita Skeeter's article at him every time he went near them. He followed Cedric at a distance and saw that he was heading toward the Charms corridor. This gave Harry an idea. Pausing at a distance from them, he pulled out his wand, and took careful aim.

"_Diffindo!"_

Cedric's bag split. Parchment, quills, and books spilled out of it onto the floor. Several bottles of ink smashed.

"Don't bother," said Cedric in an exasperated voice as his friends bent down to help him. "Tell Flitwick I'm coming, go on…"]

Hmm. It's almost as if he's telling his **sixth year-friends** that he'll catch up to them later. In class. That only the** sixth years** are taking at present. Implying that he was some sort of sixth year or some such who possibly had a September or October birthday so he could still enter the tournament, like we've already had an example of with Angelina.

Is that enough evidence for you people? Can I be done now?

* * *

"Hi," said Cedric, picking up a copy of _A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_ that was now splattered with ink. "My bag just split…brand-new and all…I have definitely not had enough education yet or you'd think I'd know some way to fix it, attempting to enter the tournament was probably a massive mistake on my part…"

* * *

"So…got any idea how you're going to get past your dragon?" said Moody.

"Figured I could just forfeit," said Harry honestly, shrugging. "As long as I see the tournament through to the end I'll be fulfilling whatever the binding magical contract apparently entails, so…"

"Or I could put some kind of Compulsion Charm on you so you go through with it anyway," said Moody swiftly. "Then again, all that really matters is getting you through the third task, so I suppose you can try it your way up until that point…"

"You're saying all of this out loud, sir."

"I know, I'll _obliviate_ you in a minute."

"Why do I keep coming up to this office."

"I wonder why you never considered any of this in canon, though," Moody went on, scratching his nose. "Maybe your name coming out of the Goblet of Fire automatically puts some kind of mild Compulsion Charm on you to make you compete in the tournament?"

"That's a nice theory," Harry agreed. "I completely agree. I am going to leave now." He shot up and bolted for the door.

"_Stupefy,"_ said Moody almost lazily.

"Well this isn't good," said Harry as he collapsed.

* * *

"Are you kids ready to fight a _draaagooooooon?"_ said Bagman brightly in a sing-song voice. "Of course not, you're just children, what the hell are we thinking!" He laughed heartily as the champions started vomiting copiously.

* * *

The crowd was making a great deal of noise, but whether friendly or not, Harry didn't know or care. It was time to do what he had to do…to focus his mind, entirely and absolutely, upon the thing that was his only chance…

He raised his wand.

"_Accio golden egg!"_ he shouted.

The egg lifted up from atop the pile of real dragon eggs and flew towards him, hitting him in the chest. Slightly winded from the impact, Harry quickly wrapped his arm around it before it fell to the ground, and then looked up expectantly at the panel of judges.

The judges stared back at him, along with the crowd, which had been stunned into silence.

"…Uh…" said Bagman hesitantly.

Several people in the crowd started booing, as they had expected more of a show, but they soon got their wish as the dragon flipped out over the loss of one of her eggs and let out a stream of fire in Harry's direction. Harry staggered back as Charlie and ten other people ran out to try and contain the dragon before she killed everyone in the audience.

But they were too late. The dragon's flames still caught a few people in the corner of the stands as she thrashed. Four students in total were killed in the ensuing carnage, but they were all Hufflepuffs so no one cared.

~*~*~ That's how it could have happened. But how about this? ~*~*~

The crowd was making a great deal of noise, but whether friendly or not, Harry didn't know or care. It was time to do what he had to do…to focus his mind, entirely and absolutely, upon the thing that was his only chance…

He raised his wand.

"_Accio golden egg!"_ he shouted.

Harry waited…if it hadn't worked…if it wasn't coming…

A couple minutes passed, in which the crowd started to grow restless and the dragon seemed to get increasingly bored, and Harry lowered his wand.

"Well I tried," he said at last, turning to the panel of judges and raising his voice. "I forfeit!"

From his view, he could have sworn Dumbledore looked relieved, Maxime and Karkaroff looked smug, Crouch looked like he wasn't even paying attention, and Bagman looked nothing short of panicked.

"Er…Are you sure about that, Mr. Potter?"

Harry stared at him incredulously.

"I'm not fighting _that!"_ he yelled, pointing at the dragon. "Oi, Charlie, how many people does it take to even get near that thing, minimum?" he called out in the direction of the dragon handlers.

"About six or seven, and that's just for this one!" Charlie's voice shouted back.

"Thought so." He turned back to Bagman. "You heard the man. Six or seven _fully-grown_ wizards with extremely specialized training are needed to take on this thing, and you expect a fourth year who _didn't put his name in the goblet _and_ didn't want to be here_ to somehow survive this? Are you _mad?!"_

"Mr. Potter…please, reconsider—"

"He has already forfeited, Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore's voice serenely. "He couldn't take that back now even if he wanted to."

"But now he won't know what happens in the second task!"

"Oh no, I'll have to forfeit again," said Harry, deadpan. He could've sworn he heard a couple of chuckles coming from the crowd.

"Why would you _want_ to forfeit?!" cried Bagman, sounding desperate. "What about all the eternal glory you'd win?!"

"Hey," said Harry, glaring up at him. "Eternal glory? I've already got that," he said scathingly, trying to insert as much loathing of that fact into his voice as he could. "Frankly, since I was entered against my will, apparently under a fourth school I know nothing about, I see no reason to compete for a place that I don't have any loyalty to. And besides, Cedric's a great champion—"

"No, _no, _I do not want Diggory to be my champion!" whined Bagman, stomping his foot. He blinked as he realized what he just said. "Er…That is…"

"Mr. Bagman, I think it's time you stepped down now," said Dumbledore sternly as the crowd started booing in earnest.

* * *

Hermione stood nervously between them, looking from one to the other. Ron opened his mouth uncertainly. Harry knew Ron was about to apologize and suddenly he found he didn't need to hear it.

"It's okay," he said, before Ron could get the words out. "Forget it."

"No," said Ron, "I shouldn't've—"

"_Forget it,"_ Harry said.

Ron grinned nervously at him, and Harry grinned back.

"JUST FUCK ALREADY," shouted Hermione.

* * *

"You were the best, you know, no competition. Cedric did this weird thing where he Transfigured a rock on the ground…turned it into a dog, somehow giving it life, I'm still not sure how that works or the moral implications implied therein…he was trying to make the dragon go for the dog instead of him. Well, it was a pretty cool bit of Transfiguration, and it sort of worked, because he did get the egg, but he got burned as well — the dragon changed its mind halfway through and decided it would rather have him than the Labrador, thank Merlin because dogs are awesome and adorable and we're always so much more upset when an animal's hurt than a human for some reason; Cedric only just got away. And that Fleur girl tried this sort of charm, I think she was trying to put it into a trance — well, that kind of worked too, it went all sleepy, but then it snored, and this great jet of flame shot out, and her skirt caught fire — she put it out with a bit of water from her wand. It's basically the one time she really got to shine and it's conveniently off-page so you and therefore the reader couldn't see how awesome she was that one time so she's the weak female/French person in every other task because yay sexism/xenophobia. And Krum — you won't believe this, but he didn't even think of flying! He was probably the best after you, though. Hit it with some sort of spell right in the eye. Only thing is, it went trampling around in agony and squashed half the real eggs — they took marks off for that, he wasn't supposed to do any damage to them. So I guess the other two did worse because they slightly caught fire as opposed to causing loads of collateral damage and destroying practically priceless dragon eggs. Makes complete sense to me!"

* * *

And it wasn't just Ron…those weren't only Gryffindors cheering in the crowd. When it had come down to it, when they had seen what he was facing, most of the school had immediately switched to being mostly on his side once again. He wondered how long it would last this time.

* * *

_A/N:__...I think I just cemented my hatred of Snape with that section with Hermione. Seriously, I don't care how much he did for the fight against Voldemort and to protect Harry, _nothing _excuses what he said in that part. Grow the fuck up, you pathetic little man._

_So for those of you who...don't care, I used to do parodies of the movies before I started this series. I STILL get comments for the fourth one saying that Cedric was a seventh year this year, no matter how many times I use evidence to prove otherwise. The worst thing is that most of these guys are anonymous so I have no choice but to text-yell at them in a place where they'll probably never read it, it is best in life._

**_Review or you'll be forced to face...THE HUNGARIAN HORNTAIL, THE MOST TERRIFYING THING YOU EVER SEEN IN YOUR WHOLE LIFE._**


	6. So Many Plot Bunnies, So Little Time

_A/N: Sometimes I regret visiting MuggleNet. Now all I can think of is Filch in a musical. Noooot the most pleasant of images..._

**Disclaimer: **Dracarot gave me a few _brilliant_ ideas for this chapter, and I took quite a few things from a great deal of Channel Awesome projects including Suburban Knights, a Bum Review, and a couple of Ask That Guy With The Glasses episodes, plus a couple of LittleKuriboh's convention announcements, and obviously things were stolen from Rifftrax and _A Very Potter Sequel_. A dude who exists and a dude who at one point existed are/were people that exist/existed, and I've heard good things about bands that also existed.. Oh and some book series or other that will never be convinced that we know who anyone's last name is. Ever. _Ever._

* * *

"Harry's got a long way to go before he finishes this tournament," Hermione said seriously. "If that was the first task, I hate to think what's coming next. Which is why neither of the other two tasks are nearly as exciting. Honestly, they really should have saved the dragons for the third task so they can end on a much more dramatic climax."

* * *

Twice on the same page with the Lee Jordan, now—DEAN'S LAST NAME IS _THOMAS?!_

* * *

"Blimey, this is heavy," said Lee Jordan (_SEE?!_), picking up the golden egg, which Harry had left on a table, and weighing it in his hands. "Open it, Harry, go on! Let's just see what's inside it!"

"He's supposed to work out the clue on his own," Hermione said swiftly. "It's in the tournament rules…"

"Actually," said Harry, "Crouch only said that I wasn't allowed to ask the _teachers_ for help. All of you are completely free to help me out as much as you want."

All the Gryffindors cheered and announced they would willingly be part of this group effort and Neville was easily able to tell Harry about gillyweed once they collectively figured out what the task would entail.

* * *

Just then, Neville caused a slight diversion by turning into a large canary. You know, it's lines like this that remind me that I truly love this series for all the right reasons. ^_^

* * *

"Who're you?" Hagrid asked Rita Skeeter, because we don't know her last name yet either even though we were just retold it two paragraphs ago, as he slipped a loop of rope around the skrewt's sting and tightened it.

"Rita Skeeter, _Daily Prophet_ reporter," Rita replied, beaming at him. Her gold teeth glinted.

"Thought Dumbledore said you weren' allowed inside the school anymore," said Hagrid, frowning slightly as he got off the slightly squashed skrewt and started tugging it over to its fellows. "Yeh'd think Dumbledore would've added ter the protection spells surroundin' the castle ter make sure Animagi couldn' pass through said spells withou' his knowin' it considerin' wha' happened last year, but I guess yeh'd be wrong…"

* * *

Professor Trelawney, who had been so pleased with the pair of them when they had been predicting their own horrific deaths, quickly became irritated as Harry and Ron sniggered through her explanation of the various ways in which Pluto could disrupt everyday life…How long do you think the wizarding world'll take to come to terms with Pluto not actually being a planet, especially when most Muggles refuse on principle?

* * *

Harry's insides seemed to curl up and shrivel.

"Dance partners?" He felt himself go red. "I don't dance," he said quickly.

"Oh yes, you do," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "That's what I'm telling you. Traditionally, the champions and their partners open the ball."

Harry had a sudden mental image of himself in a top hat and tails, accompanied by a girl in the sort of frilly dress Aunt Petunia always wore to Uncle Vernon's work parties.

"I'm not dancing," he said.

"It is traditional," said Professor McGonagall firmly. "You are a Hogwarts champion—"

"No, I'm a champion of a nameless fourth school," said Harry determinedly. "And is it not _traditional_ to only have three champions in the first place?"

"You wouldn't risk putting Gryffindor in a bad light, would you, Potter." It was more of a statement than a question.

Harry stood there, fuming, then turned and walked out of the classroom. There was no way he'd be willing to go along with something like this…but maybe this was one of the parts of the tournament he had to see through to prevent whatever the consequences of a binding magical contract were. Harry sighed as he made his way to the Great Hall.

Looking down the Gryffindor table, he was suddenly struck with inspiration. He quickly jogged over to where Fred, George, and Lee (Jordan, in case you forgot) were sitting with Angelina and Alicia.

"Hey, Fred, George, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure, Harry, what's up?" asked George, looking up. A little further down, Ron and Hermione looked over at Harry curiously.

"You hear about the Yule Ball, yet?" Harry asked, trying to sound casual.

"Ah, so you need help finding a partner, do you?" said Fred, wiggling his eyebrows at Harry. "Not sure the mighty dragon tamer would be able to get a date himself, eh?"

"No, that's not it. I want you two to be my partners."

Everyone within earshot went silent as they all turned to stare at Harry as one.

"…Are you coming out to us?" said George slowly.

"No," said Harry firmly. "Not that it matters, but I _do_ prefer girls."

"Then why are you asking us?" asked Fred.

"Because apparently it's _traditional_ for the champions to open the dance," Harry spat, "never mind that it's traditional to only have three champions. I figure that since my mere existence is already making a mockery of the tournament, you two can at the very least prevent me from being absolutely miserable."

There was silence, but Lee JORDAN managed to break it.

"I would _kill_ to see you two in frilly pink dress robes," he said, smirking.

"I could probably help you two put on an overabundance of makeup," said Alicia, giggling a little. "And of course we'd have to do your hair just so…"

"So you want us to be on either one of your arms, is that it?" said Fred, seeming as though he was seriously considering it.

"I figured you're good at making people laugh with you instead of at you, and…yeah, I figured you wouldn't mind," Harry finished, somewhat lamely.

"This does sound like it could be fun," said Fred, looking like he was warming more and more to the idea.

"I'm sure we could fix our dress robes to look more feminine," said George, also appearing more enthusiastic by the second, "not that it would be that hard, to be honest…"

"I think you only have to help me open the dance," said Harry. "I'm pretty sure you can ditch me after that and spend the rest of the Ball however you want."

"Oh dear," said Angelina, smiling.

"That's an awful lot of freedom you'll be giving them, Harry," agreed Lee _**JORDAN**_, laughing slightly. "Be careful they don't sneak in any Canary Creams, am I right?"

"Now _there's_ an idea I can get behind!" said Fred, grinning evilly.

"So it's set, then?" said Harry, grinning himself.

"You got it," said George smirking.

"Brilliant," said Harry, and, feeling much more optimistic, sat down next to Ron and Hermione and dug into some steak-and-kidney pie.

"You're mental, you are," said Ron admiringly.

"You do realize that everyone _will_ think you're gay now, though, right?" said Hermione. "Rita Skeeter would have a field day, and probably half of everyone'll start hating you again."

"There are worse things to be hated for by half the school," said Harry. "Being hated by the _entire _school for being a Parselmouth springs to mind, for instance."

"Point."

"I don't think it'll be that bad," said Ron confidently. "Fred and George'll be very obviously playing it up like it's a joke, I know them. Some people might wonder, but most won't take it seriously at all, it'll be fine."

"I hope you're right," said Hermione.

…Speaking of, is no one besides Dumbledore gay? Or is everyone who is just in the closet?

* * *

"She was quite good-looking," said Ron fairly, after he'd stopped laughing.

"She was a foot taller than me," said Harry, still unnerved. "Imagine what I'd look like trying to dance with her. Because after all, it's fine if the guy's taller than the girl by like three feet, but when the girl's taller than the guy by even a couple of inches, that's Just Not On."

"There's nothing better to confirm our own masculinity than to be seen with a small, helpless female," Ron agreed, nodding sagely.

"Fuck all y'all," said iheartmwpp.

* * *

Some of the teachers, like little Professor Flitwick, who we desperately needed to be reminded that he was short by the way, gave up trying to teach them much when their minds were so clearly elsewhere; he allowed them to play games in his lesson on Wednesday, and spent most of it talking to Harry about the perfect Summoning Charm Harry had used during the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. Other teachers were not so generous. Nothing would ever deflect Professor Binns, for example, from plowing on through his notes on goblin rebellions — as Binns hadn't let his own death stand in the way of continuing to teach, they supposed a small thing like Christmas wasn't going to put him off. It was amazing how he could make even bloody and vicious goblin riots sound as boring as Percy's cauldron-bottom report. Maybe f he taught about something other than goblins at least once it would help. Professors McGonagall and Moody kept them working until the very last second of their classes too, and Snape, of course, would no sooner let them play games in class than adopt Harry. Now, I've tried a few Snape-adopts-Harry fics just to see what all the fuss was about, and on top of not being overly impressed as it's just not my cup of tea, none of them added a scene where Snape let them play games in class. You'd think they'd know that they're supposed to go hand-in-hand so they'd be complying with canon just a little bit.

* * *

"But it might take weeks to work it out!" said Hermione. "You're going to look a real idiot if everyone else knows what the next task is and you don't!"

"You know, sometimes I think I only went through doing all the tournament stuff because you forced me to study for them," said Harry. "I didn't enter and therefore have no reason to even want to win, so why should I bother trying when I already feel guilty for stealing all of Cedric's glory in the first place?"

"Still?" said Ron.

"Of course."

"Should've figured…"

* * *

"Who're you going with, then?" said Ron.

"Angelina," said Fred promptly, without a trace of embarrassment.

"What?" said Ron, taken aback. "You've already asked her?"

"Good point," said Fred. He turned his head and called across the common room, "Oi! Angelina!"

Angelina, who had been chatting with Alicia Spinnet near the fire, looked over at him.

"What?" she called back.

"Want to come to the ball with me, causing a ripple of anger amongst certain sections of the fandom when they find out you marry George even though they should know that one date does not define a relationship and sometimes things happen and people break up?"

Angelina gave Fred an appraising sort of look.

"All right, then," she said, and she turned back to Alicia and carried on chatting with a bit of a grin on her face.

"There you go," said Fred to Harry and Ron, "piece of cake."

He got to his feet, yawning, and said, "We'd better use a school owl then, George, come on…"

"You can use Hedwig, if you like," said Harry suddenly. "She hasn't had much to do in a while."

"Why not?" asked George. "I know you've been getting and sending letters, why haven't you been using her?"

"Who're _you_ writing to?" Harry replied easily.

George nodded approvingly.

"Well played, Potter, well played."

* * *

"I suppose there's always Moaning Myrtle," Harry said gloomily — This thing is just handing us plot bunnies, does anyone know of a thing that actually does this, or wants to write one themselves?

* * *

I WANT THOSE SOCKS DOBBY MADE SO BADLY, WHY ISN'T THE WB STORE THING ON THIS. Also I really wish that knife would've been utilized more.

* * *

"Hi," said Padma, who was looking just as pretty as Parvati in robes of bright turquoise. She didn't look too enthusiastic about having Ron as a partner, though, even though his status as the Best Friend Of The Boy Who Lived should've made him far higher up on the food chain, but when has Hogwarts been about logic.

* * *

Crabbe and Goyle were both wearing green; they resembled moss-colored boulders, and neither of them, Harry was pleased to see, had managed to find a partner, because it never occurred to him that maybe they went together or something, it's not entirely out of the question, people.

* * *

Harry's eyes fell on the girl next to Krum. His jaw dropped.

It was Hermione.

But she didn't look like Hermione at all. Who knew she could slightly change her hair and put on a dress! Staggering…

* * *

Hermione was now teaching Krum to say her name properly; he kept calling her "Hermy-own."

"Her-my-oh-nee," she said slowly and clearly.

"Herm-own-ninny."

"No, no, her-my-oh-nee."

"Herm-eye-won."

"Oh dear," said Hermione, looking resigned.

"Hermanininee."

"Her. My. Oh. Nee."

"Hermananoid."

"No. Her. _My_. Oh. Nee."

"Hermaynee."

"Her-my-oh-nee."

"Hermoing…Oingo Boingo."

"I do need to listen to them, but no, try again."

"Hermananimanana."

"What is that, what even is that."

"Hermano…Hermano Nucleosis."

"Oh my God, no."

"Herman Melville."

"I wish, but no. Let's try this again. _Her-my-oh-nee."_

"Hermaphrodite."

Hermione sighed heavily.

"Hermaphradorph."

"HER-MY-OH-NEE!"

"Herp Derp."

"All right, all right, I'll spell it out for you again, okay? Her, my, oh, nee. Say it with me. Her."

"Her."

"My."

"My."

"Oh."

"Oh."

"Nee."

"Nee."

"Okay, now, put those all together. Say it. Hermione."

"Yuri Lowenthal."

"That's it, I'm out of here."

"Vait, vait, I got this, uh…Hermy?"

"No."

"'Mione?"

"I will hurt you."

"Hamster Jelly?"

"THAT'S NOT EVEN A PERSON!"

* * *

Am I the only one who thinks — did we establish that Krum's eighteen? I think he's eighteen — that an eighteen-year-old of-age man going out with a fifteen-year-old girl is squicky and disturbing as hell? Is it because I'm American and depending on what State he was in he could be arrested for that even if he _was_ still seventeen? Even if they didn't do anything sexual it would still be highly suspect.

* * *

"Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!" Snape snarled as a girl ran past him. "And ten points from Hufflepuff too, Stebbins!" as a boy went rushing after her. "And what are you two doing?" he added, catching sight of Harry and Ron on the path ahead. Karkaroff, Harry saw, looked slightly chastised as he realized that he probably shouldn't discuss his vaguely evil plans out in the open where anyone could hear them. His hand went nervously to his goatee, and he began winding it around his finger.

"We're walking," Ron told Snape shortly. "Not against the law, is it?"

"…It's mostly couples out here," said Snape slowly, looking between him and Harry curiously. "Are you and Potter a thing now?"

"You'd think more people would assume that, but no."

"Huh."

* * *

"I don't know who Maxime thinks she's kidding," Harry said, watching Madam Maxime sitting alone at the judges' table, looking very somber. "If Hagrid's half-giant, she definitely is. Big bones…the only thing that's got bigger bones than her is a dinosaur."

"The hell's a dino-sour?" said Ron.

"…You're shitting me."

Harry and Ron spent the rest of the ball discussing giants and dinosaurs in their corner, neither of them having any inclination to dance. And somehow, absolutely no one thought they were gay, not even most shippers. _How._

* * *

"Listen…" Cedric lowered his voice as Ron disappeared. "I owe you one for telling me about the dragons. You know that golden egg? Does yours wail when you open it?"

"Yeah," said Harry.

"Well…take a bath, okay?"

"…_What?"_

"Take a bath, and — er — take the egg with you, and — er — just mull things over in the hot water. It'll help you think…Trust me."

Harry stared at him.

"Tell you what—"

"Are you coming on to me?" Harry cut him off.

"Wha—no! No, I just—"

"I didn't tell you to sneak down to the Forbidden Forest to _look_ at what you were up against," said Harry accusingly, "I flat-out _told_ you what you were up against."

"…If I told you to stick the egg under the water so you can figure out the clue that way?"

"Better, and I'd even take that if you really want me to."

"That's what she said."

"So it is."

"…You know what?" said Cedric, smiling. "Fuck it, you're right, you did tell me exactly what was going to happen. Merpeople are going to take something important to us and we'll have to go into the lake to get it."

"Oh, okay, thanks. Any idea what they might take?"

"Not really, the only thing I could think of was my broom or something."

"That's the first thing that came to my mind as well."

"Hmm. So you think you know what you're going to do?"

"I think I've figured something out, yeah. Thanks so much, Cedric."

"No problem. We're even now, yeah?"

"Guess so."

"Brilliant. Well, I'm off. Good luck!" Cedric grinned at Harry again and hurried back down the stairs to Cho.

* * *

Ron and Harry wasted no time in telling Hermione about the conversation they had overheard between Madame Maxime and Hagrid, but Hermione didn't seem to find the news that Hagrid was a half-giant nearly as shocking as Ron did.

"Well, I thought he must be," she said, shrugging. "I knew he couldn't be pure giant because they're about twenty feet tall. But honestly, all this hysteria about giants. They can't _all_ be horrible…It's the same sort of prejudice that people have toward werewolves…It's just bigotry, isn't it?"

"Not entirely," said Ron. "Werewolves are still human, aren't they? Whereas giants may be humanoid, but they're an entirely different _species_ of being that happens to have a long history of violence. I'm not saying you're wrong, there could very well be some decent ones out there, but you can't directly say it's the same thing, is all."

* * *

There was a Hogsmeade visit halfway through January. Hermione was very surprised that Harry was going to go.

"I just thought you'd want to take advantage of the common room being quiet," she said. "Really get to work on that egg."

"It wouldn't be quiet, though, there would still be first and second years in there," said Harry. "And besides, I — I reckon I've got a pretty good idea what it's about now, anyway."

"Have you really?" said Hermione, looking impressed. "Well done! So what is it?"

"Er — what?"

"The clue, what's the clue? Tell me so we can try to work out what we're going to do for the second task!"

"…"

"Why're you being so tight-lipped about this, Harry? You've always told me everything you know about the tournament so far—you didn't figure out the egg at all, did you."

"Look, Hagrid might be there, I just want to see him."

"Then why did you lie to me?!"

"Because I want you off my back! I'll figure out the egg on my own, just stop jumping down my throat about it! The more you remind me, the more anxious I get and the more I want nothing to do with it!"

"There's no need to take that tone with me!"

"I'll take any tone I like, you're not my mother!"

"So we're staring the angst thing here instead of next year, are we?" said Ron, who may or may not have been present for this conversation, I have no idea.

* * *

"Worrying about poor 'ickle goblins, now, are you?" Ron asked Hermione. "Thinking of starting up S.P.U.G. or something? Society for the Protection of Ugly Goblins?"

"Ha, ha, ha," said Hermione sarcastically. "Goblins don't need protection. Haven't you been listening to what Professor Binns has been telling us about goblin rebellions?"

"No," said Harry and Ron together.

"Well, they're quite capable of dealing with wizards," said Hermione, taking another sip of butterbeer. "They're very clever. They're not like house-elves, who never stick up for themselves."

"But they're still seen as inferior to wizards, aren't they?" said Harry.

"I did just call them ugly and implied something to that effect, didn't I," said Ron ponderously. "You know, I meant it as a joke, but maybe we actually should do one of the expanded acronyms or whatever so we can fight for goblin rights as well, I know they can't carry wands and they're probably really bitter about that, we should try talking to one or two the next time we're at Gringotts and get their views on it and all."

"Oh that's just rubbish," said Hermione, "goblins can handle themselves fine without wands, why would they want them?"

"I guess you're right," said Harry. "We as outsiders should continue to think so, not do any research whatsoever outside of History of Magic homework, and be absolutely certain that this issue will never come up in the future."

"Too right."

"Am I the only one with any sense at this table?" said Ron incredulously.

* * *

Dumbledore stood up. "I refuse to accept your resignation, Hagrid, and I expect you back at work on Monday," he said. "You will join me for breakfast at eight-thirty in the Great Hall. No excuses. Good afternoon to you all." He turned to leave the cabin.

"Hang on a minute, Professor," Harry called after him, frowning. "Why didn't you refuse to accept Professor Lupin's resignation last year?"

"Because shut up."

"I dislike you with great intensity."

* * *

Hagrid looked at Harry for a moment and then said, very seriously, "Yeh know what I'd love, Harry? I'd love yeh ter win, I really would. It'd show 'em all…yeh don' have ter be pureblood ter do it. Yeh don' have ter be ashamed of what yeh are. It'd show 'em Dumbledore's the one who's got it righ', lettin' anyone in as long as they can do magic. How you doin' with that egg, Harry?"

"Actually, since I told Cedric about the dragons, he returned the favor and told me about the second task," said Harry, building off a possible scenario that was written earlier just to see where it would go.

"Oh yeah? Know what yer gonna do, then?"

"You know what the second task is, don't you, Hagrid?"

"The entire staff knows. Dumbledore knows he can trust us, see."

"…I can't swim, Hagrid. I don't think I can do it. I'll try my best in the third task for you, but the second task…I'm sorry, Hagrid, I can't do it."

Hagrid simply looked at him for a moment, then his eyes crinkled in a smile and he pat Harry on the back, nearly sending him into the table.

"I knew yeh didn' want ter be in this tournament anyway," he said gently. "'S askin' more than what yeh should have ter do. I'm sorry fer tryin' ter pressure yeh."

"No, that's all right," said Harry. "You're really the first one to give me actual motivation to try to win this thing, but…I just want to come out of this alive."

"An' drownin' probably won' help."

"Probably not," Harry agreed, laughing and feeling better than he had in weeks.

* * *

Harry had swallowed a considerable amount of bubbles in shock. He stood up, sputtering, and saw the ghost of a very glum-looking girl sitting cross-legged on top of one of the taps. It was Moaning Myrtle, who was usually to he heard sobbing in the S-bend of a toilet three floors below, even though two years ago she was more commonly found in the U-bend. Maybe she avoided U-bends now for fear of more diaries falling through her head and that's why she prefers S-bends now…?

* * *

"Have you been spying on Cedric, too?" said Harry indignantly. "What d'you do, sneak up here in the evenings to watch the prefects take baths?"

"Sometimes," said Myrtle, rather slyly, "but I've never come out to speak to anyone before."

"I'm honored," said Harry darkly. "I'm so honored that I'm reporting you to Dumbledore for sexual harassment of countless students for who knows how many years."

* * *

"Well, that's what Diggory thought," she said. "He lay there talking to himself for ages about it. Ages and ages…nearly all the bubbles had gone…"

"Thanks for reaffirming my need to speak to Dumbledore as soon as I'm out of here," said Harry coldly. "I need to break this to Cedric gently, he deserves to know, no matter how horrible knowing this may be for him…"

* * *

"That's it, isn't it?" said Harry excitedly. "The second task's to go and find the merpeople in the lake and…and…"

But he suddenly realized what he was saying, and he felt the excitement drain out of him as though someone had just pulled a plug in his stomach. He wasn't a very good swimmer; he'd never had much practice. Dudley had had lessons in his youth, but Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, no doubt hoping that Harry would drown one day, hadn't bothered to give him any. A couple of lengths of this bath _should have been impossible if he'd never had lessons_, and forget about ducking his head under the water and being able to hold his breath for long periods of time to hear the egg clue, that should've also been impossible, unless he learned from Dudley sticking his head down toilets or something. If not, JKR just invalidated the last four pages or so of her own writing, Hogwarts isn't _that_ magical and Harry is _not _that superpowered.

* * *

The golden egg fell through the tapestry at the bottom of the staircase, burst open and began wailing loudly in the corridor below. Harry pulled out his wand and struggled to touch the Marauder's Map, to wipe it blank, but it was too far away to reach—

Pulling the cloak back over himself there should be a comma right here but there isn't Harry straightened up, raised his wand, muttered _"Accio Map!" _as quickly and silently as he could, and nearly cried in relief as it flew into his hand. Quickly muttering "Mischief Managed," he stuffed the map into his dressing gown…and, almost immediately—

"PEEVES!"

* * *

BOY is it a good thing Snape apparently doesn't know _homenum revelio._

* * *

"Snape said Moody's searched his office as well?" Ron whispered, his eyes alight with interest as he Banished a cushion with a sweep of his wand (it soared into the air and knocked Parvati's hat off—OH MY GOD THEY STILL HAVE HATS).

* * *

"I don't care what Moody says," Hermione went on. "Dumbledore's not stupid. He was right to trust Hagrid and Professor Lupin, even though loads of people wouldn't have given them jobs, just like he was right to leave a small child with people who were sure to abuse him and presumably never checked up on him ever, and just like he was right to keep the school open even though all of the students under his care were either in danger of being killed by a basilisk or blown to bits by an assumed mad mass murderer, and of course he was _totally_ right to hire the likes of Lockhart and _Quirrell,_ so why shouldn't he be right about Snape, even if Snape is a bit—"

"—evil and dickish," said Ron promptly.

* * *

So Harry, thinking that he would soon have had enough of the library to last him a lifetime, buried himself once more among the dusty volumes, looking for any spell that might enable a human to survive without oxygen. However, though he, Ron, and Hermione searched through their lunchtimes, evenings, and whole weekends — though Harry asked Professor McGonagall for a note of permission to use the Restricted Section, and even asked the irritable, vulture-like librarian, Madam Pince, for help — they found nothing whatsoever that would enable Harry to spend an hour underwater and live to tell the tale. Not one book in the entire library made a single mention of the Bubble-Head Charm, nor did Madam Pince possess any knowledge of it whatsoever. Naturally.

* * *

"Yeh're goin' ter win," Hagrid growled, patting Harry's shoulder again, so that Harry actually felt himself sink a couple of inches into the soft ground. "I know it. I can feel it. _Yeh're goin' ter win, Harry."_

And thus, when Harry drowned to death during the second task, Hagrid was very disappointed in him. All was well.

* * *

"I know what I should have done," said Harry, resting, face-down, on _Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts._ "I should've learned to be an Animagus like Sirius."

An Animagus was—WE KNOW WHAT A FUCKING ANIMAGUS IS. WE ARE OVER HALFWAY THROUGH THIS FUCKING BOOK, STOP FUCKING RECAPPING BULLSHIT. FUCK.

"Yeah, you could've turned into a goldfish any time you wanted!" said Ron.

"Or a frog," yawned Harry. He was exhausted.

"It takes years to become an Animagus, and then you have to register yourself and everything," said Hermione vaguely, ignoring Harry's muttered "No I wouldn't" as she squinted down the index of _Weird Wizarding Dilemmas and Their Solutions_. "Professor McGonagall told us, remember…you've got to register yourself with the Improper Use of Magic Office, because showing the absolute height of your Transfiguration prowess is considered improper, obviously…what animal you become, and your markings, so you can't abuse it…"

"Like how Sirius is currently 'abusing' it to avoid his soul getting sucked out, you mean?" said Harry stiffly.

"Well, he's a special case, of course, but _you'd_ never do anything to break the rules like that—"

"You mean like how I break rules all the time? Usually for the purpose of saving the world?"

"Not _laws_, though."

"Not yet…"

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

* * *

The common room emptied slowly around Harry. People kept wishing him good luck for the next morning in cheery, confident voices like Hagrid's, all of them apparently convinced that the next task was going to be just as exciting as the first one, blissfully unaware that they would be sitting and staring at a lake for over an hour in February. IT'S GONNA BE THE HYPEST SHIT, YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW.

* * *

_A/N: So...October's coming up, and obviously November's gonna follow that. Thinking of doing NaNoWriMo again, but since I don't have any original ideas this year I figured I could work on a fanfic or something. Now, do I want to crank out the entire parody for OotP in a month, or do I want to work on the Silent Hill crossover that I've been thinking about for a while now, just so it'll be out of my head and I can get on with my life. What a dilemma..._

_**Review or Myrtle will watch you in the shower. D:**_


	7. Jesus Christ This Task Blows

_A/N: I know that I probably could have written an entire alternate version of the tournament and have that be its own separate fanfic. This chapter should illustrate why I didn't: I have no idea which version of the second task I would've gone with. Which was also my problem with the first task, and several conversations and things. This way, I don't have to write four or five entirely different fics on the same subject, and can also continue to break the fourth wall whenever I want because awesomeness.__  
_

_Oh and my movie parodies finally got removed over nine months after the initial complaint. Way to stay on top of things, you guys. This is also why I didn't get to post this until today; they had temporarily locked my account since I done goofed. Now to ask exactly why script format isn't allowed on this site and wait an additional eleven months for a reply only to receive an automated response that doesn't actually answer anything three years later...Hey, I should probably update that blog thing, shouldn't I...NAAAAH. Though I've heard good things about An Archive Of Our Own...Yes, I've backed all eight of them up, calm your shits. It just might be a while before they're back up elsewhere on the interwebs since, in case you hadn't noticed, kind of in the middle of a bunch of new stuff here. :/ (Heh, what's the betting the admin who finally got around to it only did it because they had a "nonessential" federal government job and thus had nothing better to do. Oh yes I went there. _^_^_ COME AT ME BRO!)_

_In other news, some anonymous person still thinks Cedric's a seventh year. Apparently we are_ not _done with this shit. How nice. __Pardon me while I slam my head into a wall over and over. **(Edit: The dude's a friendly-friend who forgot to log in and was being totally sarcastic and I am super dumb.)**_

**Disclaimer:** Will anyone ELSE get the Clue reference this time, I wonder. *waves at MyBunnyHatIsCoolerThanYours* And the Rifftrax guys are just too on the nose for their own good sometimes.

* * *

As soon as Harry woke up on the morning of the Second Task, he immediately checked his trunk to make sure everything was still there. He nearly sobbed in relief when he found his Firebolt, his Invisibility Cloak, the photo album Hagrid had given him of his parents, and even his Gringotts key were all exactly where he'd left them the previous night. As Harry repacked his trunk, he wondered what the poem could possibly have been referring to. Maybe Moody had sensed how much the Marauder's Map had meant to him, so that was what would be used for the tournament…? He was tempted to use a Summoning Charm again, but figured that he might as well just forfeit outright again and hope that he could get it back some other way; with all the enchantments his father and the others put on it, surely they found a way to make it waterproof. Hopefully.

He glanced up as Seamus, Dean, and Neville also started to get out of bed. He looked over at Ron's bed. Professor McGonagall had ordered him and Hermione to come up to her office the previous night, and as far as he knew they hadn't returned. Or maybe Ron had eventually come back to bed sometime after Harry had already fallen asleep, and got up early because he didn't want to miss breakfast or something.

Harry went down to breakfast with the other three boys from his dormitory, all three of them asking jokingly if he was going to forfeit again and trying to pry what the task was out of him. Ron wasn't sitting at the Gryffindor table, and neither was Hermione. Harry nearly giggled out loud. He'd been wondering since the Yule Ball when Ron was going to pull his head out of his arse and finally realize that he fancied Hermione. He must've talked to her last night after whatever McGonagall wanted them for. They must've found a deserted classroom somewhere and…Harry stopped his thoughts right there. He did _not_ need those images in his head.

After breakfast ended, Dumbledore stood up and announced that everyone should head down to the lake. It was only then that Harry noticed that Percy Weasley was sitting at the head table — Mr. Crouch had failed to turn up again. He also noticed for the very first time that Percy's last name was, in fact, Weasley. He felt very proud of himself for noticing this. Harry stood up with the other students, his eyes straying toward the Hufflepuff table. Catching Cedric's eye, the two Hogwarts champions nodded to each other as they followed the crowd down the stone steps and out onto the bright, chilly grounds.

As he strolled down the lawn, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to keep warm, Harry saw that the seats that had encircled the dragons' enclosure in November were now ranged along the opposite bank, rising in stands that were steadily filling in and reflected in the lake below. The excited babble of the crowd echoed strangely across the water as Harry and the other champions walked briskly around the other side of the lake with the judges, who sat down at another gold-draped table at the water's edge. Harry, Cedric, Krum, and Fleur lined up beside the judges table, patiently waiting for the task to begin; Fleur was shivering slightly in her silk robes.

"It eez far too cold for zis," she said, her teeth chattering.

"Maybe the judges are intentionally trying to give us hypothermia?" suggested Cedric, grinning.

"And 'what we'll sorely miss' turns out to be Pepper-Up Potion," said Harry, making Cedric laugh; even Krum smiled a little. Fleur just scoffed and pulled her robes tighter around herself.

Ludo Bagman was now moving among the champions, spacing them along the bank at intervals of ten feet. Harry was at the very end of the line, feeling even prouder of himself that he was able to remember Bagman's full name, next to Krum, who had taken off his outer robes to reveal swimming trunks and was holding his wand at the ready.

"All right, Harry?" Bagman whispered as he moved Harry a few feet farther away from Krum. "Know what you're going to do?"

"Yeah," Harry whispered back, concealing a smirk, even as he scanned the crowd for any sign he could find that Ron and Hermione would turn up for the task. Perhaps, since they knew what his plan was, they decided to not freeze to death for however long the task would take since it was pointless anyway?

Bagman gave Harry's shoulder a quick squeeze and returned to the judges' table; he pointed his wand at his throat as he had done at the World Cup, said, _"Sonorus!"_ and his voice boomed out across the dark water toward the stands.

"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One…two…_three!"_

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause; Harry watched as each of the champions pointed their wands at their heads. Cedric and Fleur's heads were soon encased in an enormous bubble, which made their features look oddly wide and stretched. Krum's head, meanwhile, was slowly losing hair and growing more pointed and grayish—his head was turning into that of a shark. Harry stared in amazement as the other three champions completed their various transformations and ran out into the water. Soon, they vanished beneath the surface.

"Harry?" Harry looked over his shoulder to see Bagman staring at him, his smile a little bit strained; he had taken the spell off of his voice so he was speaking normally. "Is everything okay?"

Harry shrugged.

"I forfeit," he announced so the other judges could hear him as well.

"Again?!" said Bagman, sounding slightly panicky. "Isn't there something you can—"

"I have no knowledge of any spell I can use to breathe underwater," said Harry. "I am entirely unfamiliar with the magic the other three champions used just now. _I'm only a fourth year_, you see," he added bitingly. He paused. "Also I can't swim," he concluded.

"Seriously?" said Percy and Karkaroff in unison; Percy's tone was incredulous, Karkaroff's mocking.

"Seriously," Harry confirmed, shrugging. "The Dursleys never made sure that I knew."

"But what if you fell into some random body of water and drowned?" said Percy, now sounding concerned. For some reason, he was staring at the lake and looked quite pale as he said this.

"I think that's what they were going for," said Harry casually. All of the judges stared at him in varying degrees of disbelief and pity. "What?"

"Don't you want to get back the person you'd miss most?" asked Bagman after shaking himself out of his stupor.

"Well, Professor Moody did say he was only borrowing it, so I'm sure I'll get it back eventual…What do you mean by 'person'?" Harry trailed off, his eyes widening.

The judges looked at each other, except for Percy, who was still staring at the water.

"Ron's down there," he said at last, in a hushed voice. "He's what you'd sorely miss."

"…What?" Panic began seeping through Harry's veins, and the trembling that overtook his body had nothing to do with the cold.

"A person was selected for each champion to rescue," Percy explained in clipped tones; it looked like he was trying not to panic himself. "Said people were then put into an enchanted sleep and then sent down to the bottom of the lake with the merpeople to await the time when the champions would carry out the task set for them."

Harry's breaths became shorter and more strained; it was though someone had his lungs in a vice.

"Who else is down there?" he choked out. "Who are the others besides…besides Ron?"

"Diggory has to rescue Cho Chang, Miss Delacour has to rescue her younger sister, Gabrielle, and…and Krum has to rescue Hermione." Percy sounded apologetic as he listed off the last name.

The strength left Harry's legs and he collapsed to his knees, staring out at the dark surface of the lake.

"_But past an hour, the prospect's black," _he whispered. _"Too late, it's gone…it won't come back…"_ He'd lost them, he lost both of them. And he and Ron had just made up…Hermione had tried to convince him to compete, _Hagrid_ had tried…he'd let Hagrid down…He would never see Ron or Hermione again…

Harry shot up and started running for the lake. Before his feet even reached the water, he felt himself slam into an invisible wall. Yelling, he tried to fight against it, but a strong pair of arms wrapped around him and dragged him back to the judge's table.

"Let me GO!" he shouted, fighting as hard as he could, but the arms wouldn't budge.

"Calm down, Harry," said the person that was holding him back. Harry looked up and saw Dumbledore staring serenely down at him even as he refused to let go. "Your friends are in no danger—"

"THEY'RE GOING TO _DROWN!"_ Harry bellowed, fighting harder than ever even as he was marveling at Dumbledore's strength.

"They are not!" said Karkaroff; to Harry's disgust, it looked as though he was trying not to laugh. "They are perfectly safe! Did you honestly think we would kill four children just for the sake of entertainment?"

"People die all the time in this tournament, how many times have you lot talked about the death toll?!" Harry spat. "And the clue said—"

"The clue was just there so you would have motivation, you weren't supposed to take it seriously!"

"THEN WHY DID YOU MAKE IT PART OF THE CLUE IN THE FIRST PLACE?!" Harry screamed, finally breaking free of Dumbledore's grip. He rounded on Percy. "How could you let them do this to your own _brother?!"_ he yelled at him. "Do your parents know about this?! Do they know what you've done?!"

"Ron will be perfectly fine!" Percy snapped, his ears turning red.

"Then why do you look as terrified as I feel?!"

"He's my brother, of course I'm worried!"

"_Then why did you consent to this?!"_ Ignoring Percy's spluttered reply, Harry tore his wand from his robes and pointed it at the lake. _"ACCIO RON!" _he shouted in desperation.

"That won't work," said Dumbledore calmly as Harry stared at the surface of the lake in despair as nothing happened. "At least, I don't think it'll work. I know you'll try to Summon Hagrid in about three years and the sidecar only falls more quickly, but it's really unclear."

"Also you're disqualified anyway, so there's really nothing you're allowed to do right now," said Karkaroff triumphantly.

Harry roared with frustration, throwing his wand down at his feet.

"So, for this test, they drowned four of their own students?" asked Kevin Murphy, observing the argument from the stands.

"No," scoffed Mike Nelson. "They simply drugged them and threw them into the water. That breaks no laws that I can think of."

"I don't know why you're suddenly so panicked," Karkaroff went on smugly. "You didn't seem this anxious when the task initially started."

"When the tournament started, I thought 'what I'd sorely miss' only amounted to a trinket my father and his friends made when they were at school," said Harry scathingly. "Even though I barely have anything from my parents, I wasn't about to die over some artifact. I didn't know you were going to sacrifice my two best friends!"

"We are not _sacrificing_ them! Why are you so upset—"

"THEY'RE THE ONLY FAMILY I HAVE!" Harry screamed at him. "IF ANYTHING HAPPENED TO THEM I WOULD _KILL MYSELF!"_

"Is this the whole task?" came Seamus's voice across the lake.

"If you weren't prepared for this kind of thing to happen, then you shouldn't have entered the tournament to begin with—" Karkaroff began.

"_I DIDN'T ENTER THE FUCKING TOURNAMENT!"_ Harry bellowed.

"Language," said Dumbledore sharply.

"FUCK YOU!" Harry spat at him. "YOU DID THIS!"

"Yes, I did perform the magic that is keeping them down at the bottom of the lake, safe and sound," said Dumbledore. "As soon as they come above the surface of the water again, they will be awoken from their slumber, and not a moment before then. They have no need to breathe right now, so they will be in perfect health when they are awoken. Please, calm down."

"And how long does this magic last?" said Harry, still fuming. "Does it only last the full hour that the clue spoke of, and after—"

"It will last until they are brought above the surface, or until I die," said Dumbledore simply. "And I assure you, I have no intention of dying at this time."

"Who does?!" cried Harry, throwing up his arms. "The Ministry had no intention of the dementors going after anyone but Sirius, and they came after me instead! You lot had no intention of having more than three champions in this tournament, and suddenly I'm here, fucking everything up! Everything always goes wrong here, no matter how _safe_ you lot like to pretend it is!" Harry stopped short, staring back out at the water. "It's my fault," he whispered. "Ron wouldn't be involved in this if it wasn't for me. It's all my fault…"

He sank to his knees again, staring out at the lake. Nothing any of the judges said made him budge from his spot. He didn't know how long he sat there, staring at the surface of the water, trying not to envision what must be happening to Ron and Hermione right at this moment…

Suddenly, the surface of the water broke. Harry jerked his head up and watched as Fleur Delacour clambered out of the water. Madam Maxime rushed up to her and tried to help her out, but she shook her off.

"I'm fine, eet was just ze grindylows," she said shortly. "Zey attacked me, and I 'ad to get to ze surface because ze charm broke." She threw her dripping hair over her shoulder. She had many cuts on her face and arms and her robes were torn, but she didn't seem to care. "What was taken from me?" she asked Madam Maxime. "I couldn't figure eet out."

"Your sister," said Harry shortly before anyone else could reply.

Fleur stared at him, then spun around to face Madam Maxime.

"'Ee ees joking, yes?" she demanded. Madam Maxime sighed and shook her head, then tried to console her in French as Fleur's shoulder's began to shake. She kept jerking her head, trying to deny whatever Maxime was telling her, and it wasn't long before she shouted, "ZAT'S MY _SISTER!"_ and tried to run for the water again. This time, Harry got to watch as Madam Maxime held her back and tried to talk some sense into her.

Eventually, Fleur collapsed to the ground, sobbing. Harry got up, walked over, and sat down again beside her.

"My brother and sister are down there, too," he told her.

Fleur raised her head out of her hands and stared at him.

"You 'ave siblings?"

"Ron and Hermione are like my siblings," Harry explained.

"You 'ad two 'ostages?"

"No, Hermione's Krum's hostage. Ron's mine."

"Zen why did you not try anything?" she said thickly.

"Because I can't swim and didn't know whatever spell you did so I could breathe. Also I forfeited before I found out."

"Zey should 'ave told us before zis," she spat out.

"Tell me about it." He paused. "So do you think you 'surrendering' like this is xenophobic or sexist?"

"Oui."

"Ha."

"No, seriously, is this the whole task?" Seamus shouted again.

Harry and Fleur sat staring at the lake for over a half hour. At some point, Madam Pomfrey finally managed to force some Pepper-Up Potion down Fleur's throat and wrap her tightly in a blanket. She threw one over Harry as well, but Harry barely noticed. All he could do was stare at the lake and pray that Krum would at least save Hermione; it was too much to hope that any of the others would save the hostages that were left behind.

At the end of the hour, Bagman pointed his wand at this throat once more.

"It appears as though none of the champions managed to complete the task within the hour allotted to them. The judges have agreed to wait thirty more minutes before—"

"JUST GET THEM OUT ALREADY!" Harry exploded, no longer able to take it.

"The judges have agreed to wait thirty additional minutes before going to retrieve the champions and their hostages," Bagman said through gritted teeth. "We ask that you sit tight just a little while longer."

"We've been sitting tight for over an hour and nothing's happened!" Seamus's voice rang out once more. "We're freezing our arses off here, this is so boring!"

Just then, the surface of the water broke once more. Harry stared out and saw two people swimming steadily closer. He got up, dropping the blanket as he went to the water's edge, straining his eyes to see who it was. His heart sank as saw that it was only Cedric bringing Cho. He didn't look like he had anyone else with him. Sighing heavily, Harry went back, picked up the blanket again for the sake of something to hold onto, and sat down again beside Fleur.

"Hogwarts champion Cedric Diggory has just returned with his hostage," Bagman announced, sounding less than enthused. "We are now waiting on the Durmstrang champion."

Harry watched dispassionately as Madam Pomfrey practically attacked Cedric and Cho with blankets, handing both of them Pepper-Up Potions. As the steam whistled out of their ears, they walked over to where Harry and Fleur were sitting on the ground.

"Did you know they took people?" asked Cedric, looking scared. Both Harry and Fleur shook their heads. Cedric shuddered and wrapped his arms around Cho, pulling her close. Harry was surprised at his own lack of jealousy.

"Come on, Ced, Dumbledore assured us that we weren't in any danger," said Cho, smiling up at him.

"Dumbledore also said there would only be three champions," said Harry bitterly.

"…Fair point," said Cho, biting her lip. "You okay?"

"I'll be fine when Ron and Hermione are above water again."

"And Gabrielle," said Fleur softly. She must've been talking about her sister.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Bagman announced, "the final champion has surfaced, and…and he has his hostage with him! The task has concluded!"

Harry shot to his feet, sending the blanket flying as he watched Krum and Hermione swim toward shore. He stepped into the water to meet them. It was so cold he felt the skin on his legs searing as though this were fire, not icy water, but he shoved that aside as Krum and Hermione came closer. As soon as Hermione was in reach, he grabbed her arm and helped Krum drag her to shore.

"I knew it," Hermione bit out through chattering teeth, shaking her head at Harry and grinning, "I knew you would end up forfeiting."

"Hermananimanana—" Krum tried to say, but Hermione ignored him.

"So is Ron still at the bottom?" she asked.

"Yes," said Harry, before pulling her into a hug. "I can't take much more of this," he muttered into her hair.

"Harry, it's all right, I'm fine and Ron will be too," said Hermione, hugging him back.

"But he's _my_ hostage," Harry bit out. "Everything always goes wrong with me…"

Hermione pulled back and looked as though she was going to answer him, but she was interrupted by Madam Pomfrey doing the usual blanket and Pepper-Up Potion routine on both her and Krum.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," she said once her head stopped smoking. "Don't worry about it, Harry, Dumbledore'll get him in a minute."

Harry stared at her.

"You really don't get it, do you," he said softly. Hermione looked at him in confusion, but they were distracted by Dumbledore stepping forward to the edge of the lake and raising his wand. Muttering some kind of incantation, he waved his wand in slow, intricate patterns. Suddenly, the surface of the lake broke for a final time, and barely ten feet from the edge of the water, Ron and a young girl who looked no older than eight, whose silvery hair made Harry feel sure that she was Fleur's sister. Barely noticing Fleur or Percy rush out into the water, Harry found himself already waist-deep once again and helping Percy drag Ron back to dry land again. Ron expelled a great spout of water, most of it hitting Harry in the face.

"Wet, this, isn't it?" he said, grinning. "You never even went into the water until now, did you?" He laughed. "I knew you were going to forfeit again, you know."

Harry didn't answer him; he let him go for a split second, in which Percy insisted on checking Ron over ("Gerroff, Percy, I'm all right!"), and grabbed Hermione's arm, dragging her back over to Ron. Shoving Percy aside, he pulled Ron and Hermione in for the tightest hug he had ever managed in his life.

"Harry?" said Ron in a hesitant and slightly freaked out voice. "Are you…all right?" Harry shook his head wordlessly. "You prat, you didn't take that song seriously, did you? Dumbledore wouldn't have let any of us drown!"

"Percy was also a judge and he was still worried about you," Harry mumbled into Ron's soaked robes.

"Well he sort of has to be, I'm his brother, aren't I?"

"Exactly," said Harry, letting them go and looking Ron directly in the eye. Ron blinked, his ears turning red as he looked away in embarrassment. "I never would have forfeited if I knew what was really at stake," Harry added, looking between him and Hermione.

"We know you wouldn't have, Harry," Hermione said softly.

Dumbledore was crouching at the water's edge, deep in conversation with what seemed to be the chief merperson, a particularly wild and ferocious-looking female. He was making the same sort of screechy noises that the merpeople made when they were above water; clearly, Dumbledore could speak Mermish. Finally, he straightened up, turned to his fellow judges, and said, "A conference before we give the marks, I think."

The judges went into a huddle. Madam Pomfrey had finally managed to get Ron and Fleur's sister into their own blankets; Ron's head looked as though it was on fire from the effects of the potion. He was still avoiding Harry's eye. Just then, Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice boomed out beside them, making them all jump, and causing the crowd in the stands to go very quiet.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached out decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows…

"Harry Potter, for forfeiting immediately, has won zero points."

Harry nodded slightly, looking between Ron and Hermione as though making sure they were still there. He knew he should've at least attempted _something_…what if something had happened…

"You have a beetle on your shoulder," said Hermione, reaching out and brushing it off of him. Krum looked furious.

"Huh," said Harry, staring down at the large, familiar-looking beetle crawling along the grass. "How long as that been there."

~*~*~But here's what really happened.~*~*~

"Dobby is supposed to be in the kitchens, sir!" Dobby squealed as they burst into the corridor. "Dobby will be missed — good luck, Harry Potter, sir, good luck!"

"See you later, Dobby!" Harry shouted, and he sprinted along the corridor and down the stairs, three at a time.

The entrance hall contained a few last-minute stragglers, all leaving the Great Hall after breakfast and heading through the double oak doors to watch the second task. They stared as Harry flashed past, sending Colin and Dennis Creevey flying as he leapt down the stone steps and out onto the bright, chilly grounds.

As he pounded down the lawn he saw that the seats that had encircled the dragons' enclosure in November were now ranged along the opposite bank, rising in stands that were packed to the bursting point and reflected in the lake below. The excited babble of the crowd echoed strangely across the water as Harry ran flat-out around the other side of the lake toward the judges, who were sitting at another gold-draped table at the water's edge. Cedric, Fleur, and Krum were beside the judges' table, watching Harry sprint toward them.

Harry skid to a halt in the mud and accidentally splattered Fleur's robes, but he barely noticed.

"Where have you been?" said a bossy, disapproving voice. "The task's about to start!"

Harry looked around. Percy Weasley was sitting at the judges' table — Mr. Crouch had failed to turn up again.

"Now, now, Percy!" said Ludo Bagman, who was looking intensely relieved to see Harry. "Let him catch his breath!"

Dumbledore smiled at Harry, but the smile faltered as Harry glared fiercely up at him.

"Where is he?" he spat out in between his gasps for breath, his hands on his knees and a stitch in his side that felt as though he had a knife between his ribs.

Wordlessly, Dumbledore pointed to the lake. Cursing, Harry pulled the gillyweed out of his pocket, stuffed it into his mouth, and waded out into the lake.

It was so cold he felt the skin on his legs searing as though this were fire, not icy water. His sodden robes weighed him down as he started to walk in deeper, ignoring Bagman's fierce protestations that Harry get out of the lake this instant and wait for the task to start properly.

"What did 'e mean, 'where is 'e'?" he heard Fleur ask. "Is…Is zere someone in ze lake?"

"You were told that something would be taken that you would miss," said Percy shortly.

"Wait…So you drowned four people we would miss in the lake?" said Cedric disbelievingly.

"They're not drowned," Dumbledore assured him. "They're simply in an enchanted sleep, and will remain that way until they are brought to the surface. They are perfectly safe."

Harry snorted as the water went up to his knees, his rapidly numbing feet slipping over silt and flat, slimy stones. He was chewing the gillyweed as hard and fast as he could; it felt unpleasantly slimy and rubbery, like octopus tentacles. Waist-deep in the freezing water he stopped, swallowed, and waited for something to happen.

"'Oo's down zere?" Fleur demanded in a panicked voice.

"There's no need to worry—" began Bagman, but Krum cut him off.

"The last time ve vere told everything vas under control, Hogvarts suddenly had two champions," he said shortly. "Who is down there?" Harry heard him ask.

"Gabrielle Delacour, Cho Chang, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley," Percy listed, stumbling slightly over the last name. Harry started to shiver violently in a way that had nothing to do with the freezing lake. Not Hermione too…

"My _sister?!_" Fleur shrieked. She mumbled some kind of spell and was instantly flying into the water, an enormous bubble around her head, making her beautiful features very wide and stretched. She dove in as Harry suddenly felt as though an invisible pillow had peen pressed over his mouth and nose. He tried to draw breath, but it made his head spin; his longs were empty, and he suddenly felt a piercing pain on either side of his neck—

Harry clapped his hands around his throat and felt two large slits just below his ears, flapping in the cold air…_He had gills_. Without pausing to think, he did the only thing that made sense — he flung himself forward into the water.

The first gulp of icy lake water felt like the breath of life. His head had stopped spinning; he took another great gulp of water and felt it pass smoothly through his gills, sending oxygen back to his brain. He stretched out his hand in front of him and stared at them. They looked green and ghostly under the water, and they had become webbed. He was suddenly aware of his feet being in a great deal of pain; he twisted around and struggled to take his shoes and socks off and saw that his feet had become elongated and the toes were webbed too: It looked as though he had sprouted flippers.

While he was still turned around, he saw that Cedric had followed him into the lake, wearing the same bubble around his head that Fleur had. Next to him, something monstrous was cutting through the water: a human body in swimming trunks with the head of a shark…It was Krum. He appeared to have transfigured himself — but badly.

Cedric waved at Harry, who waved back and turned around, noticing how the water didn't feel icy anymore…on the contrary, he felt pleasantly cool and very light…Harry struck out, marveling at how far and fast his flipper-like feet propelled him through the water, and noticing how clearly he could see, and how he no longer seemed to need to blink. Fleur was just barely within sight, and he saw her starting to swim downwards. Krum kept pace beside him, but Cedric was struggling to keep up. Harry slowed down a little, making sure that Cedric was still able to see him at least, but Krum sped ahead of them. Soon all of them had swum so far into the lake that they could no longer see the bottom. Motioning behind him so that Cedric knew which direction he was about to go, Harry flipped over and dived into its depths.

Silence pressed upon his ears as he and Krum soared over a strange, dark, foggy landscape. Harry stopped almost completely, waiting for Cedric to catch up to him. Krum jerked around and stared at him with those terrifying shark eyes for a moment before swimming ahead. Once Cedric was level with Harry, Harry started moving forward again. He could only see ten feet around him, so that as he swum through the water new scenes seemed to loom suddenly out of the oncoming darkness: forests of rippling, tangled black weed, wide plains of mud littered with dull, glimmering stones. How can they be glimmering if they're dull, that's completely contradictory and makes no sense. He swam deeper and deeper, out toward the middle of the lake, his eyes wide, staring through the eerily gray-lit water around him to the shadows beyond, where the water became opaque.

Small fish flickered past him and Cedric like silver darts. Once or twice he though he saw something larger moving ahead of him, but when he got nearer, hoping it was at least Krum or maybe Fleur, he discovered it to be nothing but a large, blackened log, or a dense clump of weed. Apart from Cedric, there was no sign of any of the other champions, merpeople, or Ron, Hermione, Cho, and Fleur's sister — nor, thankfully, the giant squid.

Light green weed stretched ahead of him as far as he could see, two feet deep, like a meadow of very overgrown grass. Harry was staring unblinkingly ahead of him, trying to discern shapes through the gloom…and then, he suddenly saw a shadow moving and struggling rapidly in front of him.

Harry picked up speed and saw that Fleur was getting attacked by at least six grindylows. He stuck his webbed hand quickly inside his robes and fumbled for his wand. By the time he grasped it, a grindylow had risen out of the weed and had latched itself onto Harry's leg, its pointed fangs bared. Two had grabbed Cedric's robes and were attempting to rag him down.

"_Relashio!"_ Harry shouted, except that no sound came out…A large bubble issued from his mouth, and his wand, instead of sending sparks at the grindylow attached to his leg, pelted it with what seemed to be a jet of boiling water, for where it struck it, angry red patches appeared on its green skin. Harry pulled his ankle out of the grindylow's grip and swam toward Fleur, aiming carefully and sending more jets of hot water towards them. The grindylows let go of her and sped back down into the weeds.

Fleur swam slightly upwards, staring at Harry with a look of incredulity, but Harry had already turned around to check on Cedric. The other Hogwarts champion had gotten rid of the grindylows on his own and was now swimming up to the other two, sending his own jets of boiling water down at the weeds in the hopes of discouraging any more grindylows. Harry turned back to Fleur and motioned for her to follow them. Fleur looked between him and Cedric as they swum past and quickly worked to catch up to them. Harry and Cedric, careful to not hit Fleur, occasionally sent more jets of hot water over their shoulders at random; every now and then Harry felt one of the grindylows snatch at his foot again, and he kicked out, hard; finally, he felt his foot connect with a horned skull, and looking back, saw the dazed grindylow floating away, cross-eyed, while its fellows shook their fists at Harry and sank back into the weed.

Harry slowed down a little, Cedric and Fleur pulling up beside him as he slipped his wand back inside his robes, and looked around, listening again. He turned full circle in the water, the silence pressing harder than ever against his eardrums. He knew he must be even deeper in the lake now, but nothing was moving but the two champions beside him and the rippling weed.

"How are you getting on?"

Harry though he was having a heart attack. He whipped around and saw Moaning Myrtle floating hazily in front of them, gazing at Harry through her thick, pearly glasses.

"Myrtle!" Harry tried to shout — but once again, nothing came out of his mouth but a very large bubble. Moaning Myrtle actually giggled.

"You want to try over there!" she said, pointing. "I won't come with you…I don't like them much, they always chase me when I get too close…"

Harry gave her the thumbs-up to show his thanks, turning to the other two and motioning for them to follow him. Fleur was still staring at Myrtle, shaking her head, but Cedric was smiling at him. Harry glared at Cedric, thinking he was making fun of him, but Cedric gave him a thumbs-up as well and lead the way in the direction Myrtle had indicated. Harry followed him at a slow pace so that Fleur could keep up with them, thinking to himself that he still needed to think of some way to tell Cedric what Myrtle had been doing for who knew how many years.

They swam on for what felt like at least twenty minutes. At one point, they ran into Krum again, who nearly swam past them in the opposite direction; he looked like he was completely lost. Cedric cast _lumos_ to get his attention, and pointed in the direction they were going. Soon, Krum was swimming ahead of all of them, though he had finally slowed down enough that they could still see him. They were passing over vast expanses of black mud now, which swirled murkily as they disturbed the water. Then, at long last, they heard a snatch of haunted mersong.

"_An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took…"_

Harry motioned for Fleur and Cedric to try and swim faster as he went to catch up to Krum, and they soon saw a large rock emerge out of the muddy water ahead. It had paintings of merpeople on it; they were carrying spears and chasing what looked like the giant squid. The four champions swam on past the rock, following the mersong.

"…_your time's half gone, so tarry not_

_Lest what you seek stays here to rot…"_

A cluster of crude stone dwellings stained with algae loomed suddenly out of the gloom on all sides. Here and there at the dark windows, Harry saw faces…faces that bore no resemblance at all to the painting of the mermaid in the prefects' bathroom…

The merpeople had grayish skin and long, wild, dark green hair. Their eyes were yellow, as were their broken teeth, and they wore thick ropes of pebbles around their necks. They leered at the champions as they swam past; one or two of them emerged from their caves to watch them better, their powerful, silver fish tails beating the water, spears clutched in their hands.

Harry followed Krum, occasionally checking to make sure that Cedric and Fleur were still behind them, and soon the dwellings became more numerous, there were gardens of weed around some of them, which sounds far more amazing than it actually was, and Harry even saw a pet grindylow tied to a stake outside one door. Merpeople were emerging on all sides now, watching them eagerly, pointing at Krum's head, Harry's webbed hands and gills, and Fleur and Cedric's bubbles, talking behind their hands to one another. Harry tailed Krum around a corner and a very strange sight met their eyes; Cedric nearly crashed into them once he and Fleur caught up.

A whole crowd of merpeople was floating in front of the houses that lined what looked like a mer-version of a village square. A choir of merpeople was singing in the middle, calling the champions toward them, and behind them rose a crude sort of statue; a giant merperson hewn from a boulder. Four people were bound tightly to the tail of the stone merperson.

Ron was tied between Hermione and Cho Chang. There was also a girl who looked no older than eight, whose clouds of silvery hair made Harry feel sure that she was Fleur Delacour's sister. All four of them appeared to be in a very deep sleep. Their heads were lolling on their shoulders, and fine streams of bubbles kept issuing from their mouths.

Harry and Krum sped towards the hostages; Harry was half expecting the merpeople to lower their spears and charge at them, but they did nothing. The ropes of weed tying the hostages to the statue were thick, slimy, and very strong. For a fleeting second Harry thought of the knife Sirius had bought him for Christmas — locked in his trunk in the castle a quarter of a mile away, no use to him whatsoever. He resolved to keep it with him at all times from then on, just in case it would come in handy at a time where it would actually be useful, and he sincerely wished it would be used more than once.

He looked around as Cedric and Fleur caught up with them. Cedric, looking panic-stricken, pulled a knife out of his own robes and cut Cho free, handing it to Fleur as he pulled Cho upward and out of sight. Meanwhile, Krum swam straight to Hermione and began snapping and biting at her ropes; the trouble was that Krum's new teeth were positioned very awkwardly for biting anything smaller than a dolphin, and Harry was quite sure that if Krum wasn't careful, he was going to rip Hermione in half. Fleur touched Harry's shoulder and handed him the knife, clutching her sister tightly to her chest and looking pale and scared. As she swam upwards, Harry hit Krum on the shoulder and held up Cedric's knife. Krum seized it and began to cut Hermione free. Within seconds, he had done it; he grabbed Hermione around the waist, handed Harry back the knife, and began to rise rapidly with her toward the surface.

Harry began to hack at the ropes binding Ron, and after a few seconds, they broke apart. Ron floated, unconscious, a few inches above the lake bottom, drifting a little in the ebb of the water. Harry grabbed the neck of Ron's robes and kicked off the bottom.

It was very slow work. He could only use one of his webbed hands to propel himself forward now; he worked his flippers furiously, but Ron was like a potato-filled sack dragging him back down…He fixed his eyes skyward, though he knew he must still be very deep, the water above him was so dark and he could barely see what were probably Fleur and her sister, also struggling to reach the surface…

Merpeople were rising with him. He could see them swirling around him with ease, watching him struggle through the water…Would they pull him back down to the depths when the time was up? Did they perhaps eat humans? Harry's legs were seizing up with the effort to keep swimming; his left shoulder was aching horribly with the effort of dragging Ron…

The water was getting lighter…six people were treading water on the surface…there was only ten feet of water between Harry and the surface…

And then he felt his head break the surface of the lake; he tried gasping for air but started to choke; he dragged Ron up and sunk back below the surface, taking great gulps of water to get his breath back. Looking up, he saw Ron treading water on his own next to Hermione, and a huge smile broke out over his face. They were all right…His best friends were going to be okay…

After about thirty seconds of all of the others continuing to tread water, Ron sunk back under the water. His expression was incredulous and a little bit frustrated, but Harry barely noticed, he was so elated to see him conscious and all right. Smiling broadly, he swum around in front of Ron, showing off his flippers and indicating his gills. That got a grin out of him, and Ron went above water again. Within seconds, Hermione sank below the surface as well, and she looked fascinated by the transformation Harry had undergone. She actually opened her mouth, presumably to ask him how he'd accomplished this, but realized that this would probably cause her to drown to death, so she quickly surfaced again. Ron rolled his eyes at Harry and joined her above the water.

As Harry watched, the group of champions and their hostages slowly began swimming for shore again, where the judges were waiting for them. Harry followed at a leisurely pace, surrounded on all sides by merpeople ducking and weaving around him and the others. They were singing the clue song at the tops of their lungs, sometimes going above the surface so the others could hear it too. Even from below the surface, Harry could tell that they were making the same horrible screechy noises that the egg had made, and he pitied the others who had to listen to it that way.

Eventually, the water became too shallow for Harry to continue to follow the others, so he hung back and watched as they all clambered up onto the shore one by one. All the merpeople were sticking their own heads in and out of the surface of the water, smiling down at him as they swum around him. Harry tentatively smiled back, and they all laughed and swum around him. Only one of the wild, green-haired heads stuck around, but soon the rest of them swam back to the depths of the lake, all of them waving cheerfully at Harry as they went. Harry waved back, scratching a little at his gills and wondering when the effects of the gillyweed were going to wear off.

To kill time, he started drifting out into the lake a bit more, and started doing underwater flips and spins, moves he'd never dreamed of doing before. He resolved to learn how to swim properly as soon as possible; it didn't really matter when the ability to breathe underwater was added to the equation, but the main point of knowing how to swim was to prevent yourself from drowning because normally humans _didn't_ know how to breathe underwater.

Before he knew it, he was drawing breaths with extreme difficulty. He could feel the pain on the sides of his neck again…he was becoming very aware of how wet the water was in his mouth…he had drifted further from the surface than he thought…

He kicked hard with his flippers and discovered that they were nothing more than feet…water was flooding through his mouth, into his lungs…he was starting to feel dizzy, but he know light and air were only four feet above him…he had to get there…he had to…

He broke the surface of the water once more; wonderful, cold, clean air was making his wet face sting; he gulped it down, feeling as though he had never breathed properly before, and, panting, dragged himself onto the bank. Shaking his head and trying to see through the droplets of water on his glasses, he looked around as he clambered the rest of the way onto dry land. Fleur was clutching her sister tightly to her chest, a huge smile on her face, but she was the only one. Everyone else seemed to be arguing fiercely with each other; Cho with Cedric, Ron and Percy, Hermione and Krum. As soon as Harry was completely out of the water, Ron rounded on him.

"Harry, you prat!" he said, glaring at Harry. "I can't believe you took that song thing seriously! Dumbledore wouldn't have let any of us drown! You didn't have to play the hero, there's no way you'll win now, didn't you tell Hagrid—"

"I don't care about winning!" Harry cut him off. He'd just been staring at Ron, but he couldn't keep quiet any longer. "I only care that my two best friends aren't dead because of me!"

"Because of…What the hell are you talking about? We weren't going to die because of you, we weren't ever in any danger to begin with!"

"Dumbledore was supposed to make sure no one under seventeen entered the tournament," Harry began rattling off, "the dementors were only supposed to go after Sirius, the teachers were supposed to protect the Stone — how many other examples do you want me to list off?!" He was breathing heavily now. "Nothing ever goes the way it's supposed to, and how many times have we heard how dangerous this whole thing was, how many people _died_ during it?! No matter how safe these guys try to make it this time, something can always go wrong! There were _dragons_ involved last time, for Merlin's sake!" He rubbed his hand over his face in frustration. When he lowered it, all the champions and hostages were staring at him. Harry looked right at Ron, and said, in a hushed, choked voice, "If anything happened to you or Hermione, or Merlin forbid both of you…I don't know what I'd do."

Ron didn't look like he knew what to say to that. Hermione had her hands over her mouth. Cho and Cedric were looking at each other. After a moment, Cedric sighed.

"I signed up for the tournament knowing that I would be risking my own life," he said at length. "I did _not _agree to risk anyone else's life on his behalf. Especially not someone I care about," he added in a softer tone, and Cho blushed.

"Absolument," said Fleur, stroking her sister's hair.

Harry would have spoken further, but Madam Pomfrey moved over to all of them, wrapped them all so tightly in blankets that Harry felt as though he were in a straightjacket, and forced a measure of very hot potion down all of their throats. Steam gushed out of their ears.

Percy, after finally being shaken off by Ron, was talking to Bagman about something. Maxime had come over to Fleur and was now arguing with her in French; Fleur's arms were, if possible, tightening even further around her sister. Karkaroff looked as though he was trying to have an argument with Krum, but Krum didn't appear to be listening.

Dumbledore was crouching at the water's edge, deep in conversation with what seemed to be the chief merperson, a particularly wild and ferocious-looking female. He was making the same sort of screechy noises that the merpeople made when they were above water; clearly, Dumbledore could speak Mermish. Finally, he straightened up, turned to his fellow judges, and said, "A conference before we give the marks, I think."

The judges went into a huddle. As Harry watched, Maxime and Karkaroff looked increasingly angry and frustrated, while Dumbledore looked rather serene. Bagman looked panicked as usual, and Percy seemed as though he was barely even paying attention, his eyes straying back to where Ron was bundled up with the others. Harry turned his attention back to Ron and Hermione; Ron had just pointed out a water beetle that had caught itself in Hermione's hair. Hermione brushed it away and turned to Harry.

"Do you really not care about winning the tournament, Harry?" she asked.

"Not if it means losing you two," said Harry. "And for me, it was only about surviving, anyway. I never wanted to even be a part of this."

"I suppose…"

"I still can't believe _I'm_ the one you'd miss most," said Ron, starting to grin a little. _"Everyone's_ going to be convinced that we're gay now."

"That'll be fun to deal with and try in vain to disprove," said Harry, chuckling.

"Or, miraculously, barely anyone will think that at all, not even the fanbase for the most part," Hermione suggested.

"That would just be weird if no one did that," said Ron. "This is prime shipping fodder, right here."

"I guess there's just not as much drama if we don't violently hate each other," said Harry.

"I guess…"

Just then, Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice boomed out beside them, making them all jump, and causing the crowd in the stands to go very quiet.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Despite all of the champions rescuing their hostages at roughly the same times, and despite all of them working together in order to reach their goals, showing considerable moral fiber…They still didn't follow the rules of the tournament and did not wait for the task to actually officially start. Therefore, this task has been completely invalidated."

Harry sniggered. Judging by the looks on the other champions' faces, none of them looked like they cared much either, and nor did any of the hostages.

Suddenly, Seamus Finnegan's voice rang out over the lake.

"WE JUST STARED BLANKLY AT A LAKE FOR NEARLY AN HOUR IN _FEBRUARY _FOR FUCKING _**NOTHING?!"**_

* * *

"Harry, well done!" Hermione cried, taking her attempted drowning pretty much in stride. "You did it, you found out how all by yourself!"

"…Well, first of all, thanks for making me feel like I'm about six years old," said Harry, "and second, thanks for basically pointing out for everyone to hear that you helped me last time. You are as bad as Hagrid, you know that?"

* * *

_A/N: Hey look, some actual plotholes at the end. Hurrah-face. And no, the next two chapters that'll conclude this parody thing of thingness will not be NEARLY this long. Hell, I'm surprised this turned out as long as it did, each version could've practically been its own chapter maybe._

_Also how 'bout them Pottermore updates. Don't Portkey while you're pregnant, folks. Floo Powder's fine, though, apparently. Especially since falling over face first when you get out of the fireplace is TOTALLY desirable in that situation, amirite? _-_-_ Oh and we also finally got stuff on Lockhart if you go back to the Valentine's Day chapter. I'm sure you'll all be rushing to go there in droves._

**_Review or whoever your current authority figures are will drown all of your friends and be surprised when you think that this was largely a bad move on their parts._**


	8. Wait, Did Hagrid Really Kidnap Harry?

_A/N: I made an edit to the top A/N last chapter, you should check it out, it involves me being rather idiotic and is therefore hilarious. And evidently I'll be finishing on Sundays now until this also gets taken down like my Philosopher's Stone one did yesterday. I don't even know where I used song lyrics in that thing. Though I love how their excuse is "Not the property of uploading writer." Newsflash, you guys, NEITHER IS ANYTHING WE DO ON THIS SITE. FANFICTION IS TAKING THINGS THAT ARE _NOT THE PROPERTY OF THE UPLOADING WRITER_ AND FUCKING WITH THEM. THAT IS LIKE THE DEFINITION OF FANFICTION. Sigh. Really cool how I didn't get a warning this time, though, that was awesome._

_Imma attempt to finish this one, y'know, TODAY, by posting both last chapters, and then OotP won't even be on here, I'm gonna attempt to put everything on An Archive Of Our Own over the next few months if possible. No more parodies on this site, just the occasional oneshot I guess. Fuck, I was gonna do something really cool with my Silent Hill crossover, but that's obviously not gonna happen anymore. I am this fucking close to just boycotting all this shit, you guys...So much for "Unleash your imagination and free your soul"...Oh wait, that "Free your soul" part isn't even up there anymore. That explains a LOT._

**Disclaimer:** Kitty279 cameos again (YO!). This is what happens when you make logical sense to me through MANY many PMs and things. _Yu-Gi-Oh! The Abridged Series_ and _Nullmetal Alchemist_ always seem to make me funnier whenever I watch them. Mostly when I steal lines from them. As is the always classic _A Very Potter Musical_ references, and _To Boldly Flee_'s also a fantastic internet parody production thing. And _Princess Bride_ references are always necessary in every situation ever. And all the snake info I got from Wikipedia. And this all involves some book series I'm having far too much fun with. And stuff.

* * *

Is it because I'm American that I immediately jump to the thought that Harry and Hermione and even Krum should really try suing Rita? Because I really think they should, this shit's just ridiculous. People have won lesser cases in the States (the You Never Said McDonald's Coffee Was Hot incident, anyone?), and the Wizengamot is about as if not even more incompetent, so what's the hold-up here?

Also Hermione is _fifteen years old_, what the fuck, people.

* * *

"It is Vertiaserum — a Truth Potion so powerful that three drops would have you spilling your innermost secrets for this entire class to hear," said Snape viciously. "Now, the use of this potion is controlled by very strict Ministry guidelines. But unless you watch your step, you might just find that my hand _slips"_ — he shook the crystal bottle slightly — "right over your evening pumpkin juice. And then, Potter…then we'll find out whether you've been in my office or not."

Harry said nothing. He turned back to his ginger roots once more, picked up his knife, and started slicing them again. He began planning out how he was going to tell Moody about this; Moody would surely keep defending him against Snape, he had so far, after all. Or maybe if he told Dumbledore that if Snape really was about to break the law concerning him, he would finally make Snape change his behavior somehow. Hell, maybe he could even write to Percy; there was no way someone like Percy would let this stand, and he was involved in the Ministry so maybe he could write something up on Snape, do something about him once and for all…

* * *

Karkaroff hovered behind Snape's desk for the rest of the double period. He seemed intent on preventing Snape from slipping away at the end of class. Keen to hear what Karkaroff wanted to say, Harry deliberately knocked over his bottle of armadillo bile with two minutes to go to the bell, which gave him an excuse to duck down behind his cauldron and mop up while the rest of the class moved noisily toward the door.

"What's so urgent?" he heard Snape hiss at Karkaroff.

"Making sure your class is actually deserted first, genius," Karkaroff snarled back. "Potter's still cleaning shit over there."

"Balls. Potter, get out, I'll clean it later."

"Who are you and what have you done with Professor Snape."

"OUT, POTTER."

* * *

"What if they catch you? What if you're seen?"

"You three and Dumbledore are the only ones around here who know I'm an Animagus," said Sirius, shrugging, continuing to devour the chicken leg and completely forgetting about Remus's existence even though he's the only other friend he has in the world. What a guy. I love him so.

* * *

"I don't know anything about Bagman except that he used to be Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps," said Sirius, still pacing. "What's he like?"

"He's okay," said Harry. "He keeps offering to help me with the Triwizard Tournament."

"Does he, now?" said Sirius, frowning more deeply. "I wonder why he'd do that?"

"Says he's taken a liking to me," said Harry.

"STAY AS FAR AWAY FROM HIM AS POSSIBLE," Sirius shouted, making Buckbeak go nuts.

* * *

"Hermione, would you give it a rest with the elf!" said Ron.

Sirius shook his head and said, "She's got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."

"Which is why you treat Kreacher so well," muttered Hermione.

"I _am_ an arsehole," said Sirius unconcernedly. "Also I was thinking about Moony when I said that, frankly. Plus it's less that Kreacher's a house-elf and more that he's a reminder of how dickish my family used to be, and Kreacher himself refuses to change and I refuse to change for him. It'd be like Harry moving back to Privet Drive and Vernon was the only one still there."

"And there really is no reasoning with him and I would still hate his guts, and he mine," Harry agreed.

* * *

There was a long silence. Harry was thinking of the way Crouch's eyes had bulged as he'd looked down at his disobedient house-elf back in the wood at the Quidditch World Cup. This, then, must have been why Crouch had overreacted to Winky being found beneath the Dark Mark. It had brought back memories of his son, and the old scandal, and his fall from grace at the Ministry.

But before Harry could tell Sirius about Moody's opinion on Crouch, Hermione let out a high pitched squeal and started bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Er, Hermione?" said Ron tentatively, staring at her in concern. "Are you, er, all ri—"

"You never had a trial!" Hermione cried out, pointing at Sirius and beaming wildly.

"…No, I didn't," said Sirius, clearly bewildered. "You seem to think this is a good thing for some reason."

"Don't you know what this means?" said Hermione excitedly.

"That even if I did it would've been a quick show trial and no one would have believed me anyway, but that I could've at least shouted something in Remus's general direction if he was there to plant a seed of doubt into his head so he could maybe try to convince Dumbledore that my story had merit and they could've tried to track down Peter during my incarceration so at the very least poor old Moony would have had something to live for if nothing else?"

"…That," said Hermione after a moment of staring at Sirius, "and it also means that you're completely innocent!"

"I know, if only I could clear my name…"

"You don't have to, because you're innocent!" Hermione giggled, jumping up and down and flailing her hands.

"…Yes, actually, I really do."

Hermione didn't answer; she was too busy giggling and trying to get herself back under control.

"Is she always like this?" Sirius asked Harry and Ron in exasperation.

"Yes," said Harry at the same time that Ron said "All the time."

"Would you just explain it already?" Ron said to Hermione.

"Isn't it obvious?" laughed Hermione, looking between the other three.

"No," said Ron. "No it isn't. Hence us standing here being confused and me asking what in the name of Merlin's baggy Y-fronts you're talking about."

"Okay," said Hermione, finally calming down but still grinning broadly. "So you're innocent until proven guilty, right?"

"If only," said Harry. "You should see what Snape's trying to accuse me of this time—"

"Shut up, Harry," said Hermione breathlessly. "In court, you have to be proven guilty. But Sirius was never _proven_ guilty; everyone just assumed that he was. Therefore, as far as I can tell with my limited experiences with law and assuming that the Ministry of Magic is otherwise run at least semi-efficiently in any way, then in the eyes of the law, Sirius, you have been and apparently always will be completely and totally innocent!"

Sirius gaped at her, open-mouthed. Slowly, his gaze drifted from her to the cave wall beyond her, though his expression never changed and his eyes started to cloud over.

"…I think you broke him," said Ron, nudging him with his foot.

"We'd still have to prove his innocence, though," said Harry, "or even with a trial, like he said, he'd still be guilty because all the evidence still points that way, and also people would just say he was guilty in order to get it over with and get him Kissed so they wouldn't have to worry about him anymore."

"This is getting me to think about something else, actually," said Hermione slowly. "Hagrid was the one who dug Harry out of the remains of his parents' house, yes?"

"Way to break Sirius even further, Hermione," muttered Ron, crouching down and peering into Sirius's unblinking face.

"Shut it, Ron," said Hermione dismissively, "I need to figure something out…Wait, how did Hagrid even know to go there? How did _Dumbledore_ even know? How did the entire wizarding world suddenly know that You-Know-Who had gone? Sirius had an excuse, he went to check on Pettigrew and only went to the Potters' because Pettigrew wasn't where he should've been, but everyone else…"

"Dumbledore also somehow knew that my mother died for me," said Harry, frowning. "I don't know if magic like that leaves traces or if I started talking in my sleep during that three-day coma in first year…"

"The films do try to imply that you do talk in your sleep, don't they," said Ron. "Though they also tried to imply that Lupin snores, not too sure about that one…Sirius?"

"Don't look at me," said Sirius, finally starting to come out of it. "If he did I slept through it, and it was never mentioned so I have no idea…Wait, you were in a _coma?!"_ he burst out, staring up at Harry.

"…You've missed a bit…" said Harry hesitantly, avoiding Sirius's eye.

"You'll be filling me in on this later, young man."

Harry gulped.

"Okay," said Hermione, "now I'm freaking out over this tangent I've just created. _How did people know You-Know-Who was gone and Harry survived?"_

"Maybe something happened to the Death Eaters' Dark Marks when Voldemort was defeated?" Sirius suggested, ignoring Ron and Hermione's flinches. "And the Death Eaters freaked out and the ones who didn't immediately try to play innocent went on rampages, screaming about how he wasn't really gone and that he would return one day, and everyone else was like, 'Wait, he was gone in the first place, what the hell,' and then they went to Dumbledore for answers, and as Dumbledore can just psychically tell things sometimes, perhaps because of the whole magic leaving traces thing, maybe he made more than a few public statements?"

"Did he have to tell everyone that I survived, though?" said Harry bitterly.

"Like Hermione said, Hagrid took you out of there," said Ron. "We would've demanded an explanation for why your body was conveniently missing so Dumbledore was probably forced to tell him what happened."

"Bugger."

"Also doesn't he have a bunch of weird stuff in his office that no one knows what they do?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe one of those activated when You-Know-Who was defeated. Somehow. For some reason."

"I guess…"

"Okay," said Hermione, clapping her hands together. "Back on topic. Hagrid got a hold of Harry before you showed up, right, Sirius?"

"I've been meaning to ask you lot how you found out about all this, actually," said Sirius, looking mainly at Harry.

"Hagrid, Fudge, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Rosmerta were all talking about it in the Three Broomsticks," Harry explained.

"Loudly," Ron added. "We heard everything."

"And then you told Hagrid to give Harry to you, that you were his godfather, that Harry's parents would've wanted you to look after him," Hermione continued.

"Yes…" said Sirius slowly.

"Another tangent," Hermione announced. "Did Harry's parents ever make a will?"

"Pfft, I don't fucking know."

"…Okay, that's helpful…But it was vaguely common knowledge that they would've preferred it if you cared for Harry should anything happen to them? Which it did?"

Harry slapped himself.

"I should hope so," said Sirius coldly. "And thank you so much for bringing up such a painful subject. While you're at it, why don't you give me a nice paper cut and pour lemon juice on it."

"But Hagrid refused to hand Harry over to you, right?" Hermione went on, ignoring Sirius.

"I didn't even get to say good-bye," said Sirius morosely, staring at Harry and looking as though he was about to break down any second.

"And you didn't even try to get Harry away from him, did you? You agreed to let Hagrid take him to his aunt and uncle?"

Sirius jumped to his feet.

"How _dare_ you?!" he yelled at her, looking every inch the murderer everyone but the three of them thought he was. "I _couldn't_ fight against Hagrid, I might've hurt Harry! I couldn't take that chance, no matter how careful I was! I _had _to let Hagrid take Harry to the Muggles, he left me no other choice!"

"Exactly!" said Hermione, completely unfazed by Sirius's reactions. "So you could argue that Hagrid forced you to give Harry up, that there was no way you would've done so under normal circumstances, that you had a figurative gun — er, wand — pointed at your head and at Harry's if you didn't comply!"

"Where are you going with this, Hermione?" said Harry slowly.

"Oh Harry, don't you see? Hagrid kidnapped you!" Hermione finished triumphantly.

Harry, Ron, and Sirius gaped at her.

"And Dumbledore's the one who ordered it!" Hermione went on, on a roll now. "And McGonagall was fine with it! And so was the administration that was in power at the time — hell, the current administration is perfectly content with enforcing this! Each and every one of them is an accomplice!"

"…Holy shit," Ron choked out at length.

"And Dumbledore might have made himself even more culpable when he refused to get Sirius a trial. He had twelve years to do this, twelve years where he must've been wondering about Sirius's motivations. Did he even visit you to question you?"

"Not that I was aware of," Sirius said softly. "It was never mentioned at the time that this parody was written so I sort of doubt it…"

"But isn't he Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot?" Hermione continued. "Couldn't he have reopened the case at any time?"

"I don't think he was Chief Warlock back then," said Sirius, running a hand through his tangled hair. "Crouch was pretty much running the place; he called all the shots. I doubt if even Dumbledore could get a word in edgewise. But after Crouch's downfall…Hmm…"

"This doesn't really fit what we know of Dumbledore at all, does it," said Harry. "He's usually all about giving people second chances; what changed with Sirius?"

"…Ohh…" breathed Sirius, a look of dawning comprehension growing on his face.

"What's up?" asked Ron.

"…Remember that one time I tried to murder Snape via Moony?" asked Sirius slowly.

"Yeah, that was a bit of a dick move," said Harry, glaring at his godfather.

"Yep," agreed Ron. "You're a dick. An actual penis."

"I know…" muttered Sirius. "And I think that's the point. I think I was already _on_ my second chance when all this happened. And with all the evidence pointing against me…"

"Dumbledore figured you didn't deserve a third chance, and thought you deserved to rot in Azkaban," Harry concluded softly. "He'd given up on you."

"…Christ," whispered Sirius, collapsing to the ground again.

"…LET'S MOVE AWAY FROM THIS SUBJECT," said Ron calmly.

"YES, LET US INCONSPICUOUSLY CHANGE THE TOPIC," Harry agreed. "So…Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards, doncha know."

* * *

"Karkaroff showed Snape something on his arm?" said Sirius, looking frankly bewildered. He ran his finger distractedly through his filthy hair, then shrugged again. "Well, I've no idea what that's about…Somehow, even when real Death Eaters were brought in back in the day, no one ever noticed the blatantly obvious tattoo that every single one of them shared, and it's only at the end of this school year that we ever learn anything useful."

Sirius stared at the cave wall, then made a grimace of frustration.

"There's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort."

"And if it turns out that that's how it actually went down?" said Harry cheekily.

"BOY would my trust in that man decline exponentially!" said Sirius, guffawing and having a lovely chortle fest.

* * *

"Winky is going through six bottles of butterbeer a day now," Dobby whispered to Harry.

"Well, it's not strong, that stuff," Harry said—Wait, there's actual alcoholic content in butterbeer?! Okay, now the need for a permission slip for thirteen-year-olds makes complete and total sense.

* * *

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Hermione cried. "Listen to me, all of you! You've got just as much right as wizards to be unhappy! You've got the right to wages and holidays and proper clothes, you don't have to do everything you're told — look at Dobby!"

"Miss will please leave Dobby out of this," Dobby mumbled, looking scared. The cheery smiles had vanished from the faces of the house-elves around the kitchen. They were suddenly looking at Hermione as though she were mad and dangerous.

"We has your extra food!" squeaked an elf at Harry's elbow, and he shoved a large ham, a dozen cakes, and some fruit into Harry's arms. "Good-bye!"

The house-elves crowded around Harry, Ron, and Hermione and began shunting them out of the kitchen, many little hands pushing in the smalls of their backs.

"Thank you for the socks, Harry Potter!" Dobby cried miserably from the hearth, where he was standing next to the lumpy tablecloth that was Winky.

"Okay, you saw their reaction when you merely suggested what you wanted from them," said Ron as the kitchen door slammed shut behind them. "Will you _please_ give up with the herpes now?"

"Of course I won't give it up!" said Hermione. "They're clearly terrified out of their minds!"

"The only terrified one was Dobby, everyone else was just pissed that you'd even suggest—"

"They've all been indoctrinated! We have to _do_ something, Ron!"

"I give up," Ron mumbled resignedly.

* * *

Pigwidgeon was much too small to carry an entire ham up to the mountain by himself, so Harry enlisted the help of two screech owls as well. When they had set off into the dusk, looking extremely odd carrying the large package between them, Harry reflected that maybe he should've just used the screech owls without Pig in the first place, or used a Great Grey or Eagle instead since those are larger and might be able to hold a large package on their own, as going about this in this fashion was about as conspicuous as using Hedwig would have been to begin with. Whoopsidoodle.

* * *

"Aaah, don' worry," said Hagrid gently, looking down at Hermione. "I got some o' those letters an' all, after Rita Skeeter wrote abou' me mum. _'Yeh're a monster an' yeh should be put down.' 'Yer mother killed innocent people an' if you had any decency you'd jump in a lake.'_

"Why aren't we sending ones like that last one to Malfoy about his father," Ron demanded immediately. "Or any of the other Death Eaters' kids that we know sympathize with their parents. _Daily."_

* * *

"It'll die down, though," Harry told Hermione, "if we just ignore it…People got bored with that stuff she wrote about me last time—"

"I want to know how she's listening into private conversations when she's supposed to be banned from the grounds!" said Hermione angrily.

"…You do know that _you're_ the one who told me to ignore everyone and not to worry about it," Harry muttered.

"DO NOT SPEAK OF THAT WHICH YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND," said Hermione calmly.

"Is there no law against slander?" asked Kitty279. "Why did no one do anything against Rita even after Hermione got injured by that hate mail?"

"Hell, if she was injured by an outside party, wouldn't that have been an excuse to forever check her mail for her, or at least until things died down?" said iheartmwpp. "Someone threatened to _curse_ her, and the teachers couldn't have been ignorant about the howlers she'll be getting in the future; they very clearly could have done something about this."

"And did Dumbledore ever try to find out how Rita got into the school and had these interviews?" Kitty279 rolled her eyes. "When everyone and their aunt can always sneak into the school all the time, how is it such a supposedly safe place?"

"Why aren't either of you trying to write to _Witch Weekly_ about what's actually going on, forcing them to publish a retraction, or suing them in addition to the _Prophet_ or at least publicly suing Skeeter?" Ron asked Harry and Hermione reasonably.

"Because shut up," said Harry and Hermione in unison.

"Why do I talk to people," Ron muttered.

* * *

Hedwig didn't return until the end of the Easter holidays. Percy's letter was enclosed in a package of Easter eggs that Mrs. Weasley had sent. Both Harry's and Ron's were the size of dragon eggs and full of homemade toffee. Hermione's, however, was smaller than a chicken egg. Her face fell when she saw it.

"Your mum doesn't read _Witch Weekly_, by any chance, does she, Ron?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," said Ron, whose mouth was full of toffee. "Gets it for the recipes."

Hermione looked sadly at her tiny egg. Harry, seeing her sadness and being the perfect friend that he was at all times every time, never bothered writing to Mrs. Weasley to clarify that the article was a lie and to ask her to apologize to Hermione. And Fred, George, and Ginny all cried themselves to sleep at night because they didn't get any chocolate for Easter whatsoever.

* * *

_As I am constantly telling the _Daily Prophet_, Mr. Crouch is taking a well-deserved break. He is sending in regular owls with instructions. No, I haven't actually seen him, but I think I can be trusted to know my own superior's handwriting that no one would ever be able to copy in their lives ever._

* * *

Suddenly a man staggered out from behind a tall oak. For a moment, Harry didn't recognize him…then he realized it was Mr. Crouch.

Okay. When you want to show respect to someone, you address them with honorifics like this. We see Harry do this with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley all the time. Admittedly he calls Lucius Mr. Malfoy at points but that's probably only done so we won't confuse him with Draco, who is most commonly referred to only by his surname anyway. Why would Harry be showing _Crouch_ any kind of respect within the narrative, after he's learned what he did to his godfather? Because I _refuse_ to any longer. So nyah.

You know, I've also notices that all the male adult characters (Dumbledore, Hagrid, Lupin, Fudge, etc.) get mostly referred to by their surnames without any honorifics attached, but almost every single time a female adult is brought up within the narrative (_Professor_ McGonagall, _Madam_ Pomfrey/Maxime) they're usually given some kind of title. Bit funky, that.

How the hell did I even get here.

* * *

"Vosn't he a judge?" said Krum, staring at Crouch. "Isn't he vith your ministry?"

Harry nodded, hesitated for a moment, then walked slowly toward Crouch, who did not look at him, but continued to talk to a nearby tree.

"…and when you've done that, Weatherby, I promise to stop my random ignorance that you are very blatantly Arthur Weasley's son, as there is no way you wouldn't be and obviously I'm on half-way decent terms with Arthur, and I will start addressing your by your actual surname forthwith…"

* * *

Snape, stop being a poo-head.

* * *

"It must've been Crouch," said Ron at once. "That's why he was gone when Harry and Dumbledore got there. He'd done a runner."

"I don't think so," said Harry, shaking his head. "He seemed really weak — I don't reckon he was up to Disapparating or anything."

"You _can't_ Disapparate on the Hogwarts grounds, haven't I told you enough times?" said Hermione.

"Does the forest count as part of the grounds, though?" asked Harry, for the most part genuinely curious.

"I don't see why not."

"Oh."

"Okay…how's this for a theory," said Ron excitedly. "Krum attacked Crouch — no, wait for it — and then Stunned himself!"

"And Mr. Crouch evaporated, did he?" said Hermione coldly.

"Oh yeah…"

"Well, we know Krum's good at Transfiguration," said Harry slowly. "Maybe Krum attacked Crouch, transfigured him into a log or something, and then Stunned himself like Ron said? I'm not saying that's what happened," he added quickly as Hermione opened her mouth, looking furious. "I'm just throwing out ideas."

"How is it that none of us are thinking about Portkeys or Time-Turners or any of the other magical objects we've been introduced to over the years," said Ron bitterly. "I know that's not what happened, but the fact that none of these things are even crossing our minds is ruddy embarrassing."

* * *

"Maybe Snape didn't want you to get there!" said Ron quickly. "Maybe — hang on — how fast d'you reckon he could've gotten down to the forest? D'you reckon he could've beaten you and Dumbledore there?"

"Not unless he can turn himself into a bat or something," said Harry.

"Wouldn't put it past yet another person from that particular class-year-group-thing to be yet another unregistered Animagus," Ron muttered.

* * *

"Crouch is going to let Karkaroff out," Moody breathed quietly to Dumbledore. "He's done a deal with him. Took me six months to track him down, and Crouch is going to let him go if he's got enough new names. And apparently_ allow him to teach."_ He shook his head. "Doesn't your criminal record follow you everywhere you go and make it practically impossible to gain employment, _especially_ if it means putting you in charge of children, even if you change countries?"

* * *

"But Travers and Mulciber we have," said Crouch. "Very well, Karkaroff, if that is all, you will be returned to Azkaban while we decide—"

"Hey, how 'bout you wait 'till I actually say I'm out of names if you're so desperate to stop people from hanging around and torturing everyone?" said Karkaroff impatiently.

* * *

Dumbledore added the fresh thought to the basin, and Harry, astonished, saw his own face swimming around the surface of the bowl. Dumbledore placed his long hands on either side of the Pensieve and swirled it, rather as a gold prospector would pan for fragments of gold…and Harry saw his own face change smoothly into Snape's who opened his mouth and spoke to the ceiling, his voice echoing slightly.

"It's coming back…Karkaroff's too…stronger and clearer than ever…"

"A connection I could have made without assistance," Dumbledore sighed, "but never mind."

"What do you mean, never mind?" said Harry swiftly. "What's the obvious connection between me and Snape?"

"_Professor_ Snape, Harry."

"Don't try and chance the subject on…Oh Merlin, please don't tell me he's my real father."

"What? No! Why would you ever come to that conclusion?"

"The way the narrative described my head changing smoothly into Snape's—"

"_Professor_—"

"Shut up, and there's some kind of connection you're not telling me about. Now _tell me about it."_

"…It just means that Voldemort's coming back and you're the one who beat him last time and he'll probably target you again this time."

"There, was that so hard?"

"No, you're right. And I'm totally telling you everything, too."

"…I'm sure you are."

* * *

"He put a hex on me, Professor Dumbledore, and I was only teasing him, sir, I only said I'd seen him kissing Florence behind the greenhouses last Thursday…"

"But why, Bertha?" said Dumbledore sadly, looking up at the now silently revolving girl. "Why did you have to follow him in the first place?"

"…Oh look," said Harry coldly, utterly revolted, "the textbook definition of victim blaming. How lovely." He shook his head in disgust. "I can see why JKR considered you the most benevolent person in the world and misses you the most, you massive bag of douche."

* * *

"You are not Sirius's only correspondent," said Dumbledore. "I have also been in contact with him ever since he left Hogwarts last year. It was I who suggested the mountainside cave as the safest place for him to stay."

"Oh, brilliant," said Harry. "You do realize he's been starving to death up there, right? You couldn't send him food or anything?"

"…Er—"

"He's been living off rats, you know. I'm willing to bet he was fed better in Azkaban."

"…Well—"

"You're doing spectacularly today, sir. Fucking dirtbag."

* * *

Harry was still having trouble with the Shield Charm, though. This was supposed to cast a temporary, invisible wall around himself that deflected minor curses; Hermione managed to shatter it with a well-placed Jelly-Legs Jinx, and Harry wobbled around the room for ten minutes afterward before she had looked up the counter-jinx, because no one knows that the counter-curse is just _unjellify._

* * *

Potter, the _Daily Prophet_ can exclusively reveal, regularly collapses at school and is often heard to complain of pain in the scar on his forehead (relic of the curse with which why are we repeating what is common knowledge to absolutely everyone reading this paper). On Monday last, midway through a Divination lesson, your _Daily Prophet_ reporter witnessed Potter storming from the class, claiming that his scar was hurting too badly to continue studying. Please refrain from questioning how your _Daily Prophet_ reporter even witness this even though we're being really blatant about how we probably broke laws by spying on everyone and instead be distracted by the Boy Who Lived apparently going cray-cray…Wait, did we just report on a student finding a creative way to get out of a class he didn't like and call it news?

* * *

A member of the Dark Force Defense League, who wished to remain unnamed, stated that he would regard any wizard who could speak Parseltongue "as worthy of investigation. Personally, I would be highly suspicious of anybody who could converse with Snakes, or really anyone from Slytherin House in general, hence their bad reputation, as serpents are often used in the worst kinds of Dark Magic, and are historically associated with evildoers. And rebirth. And fertility. And protection. And the totality of existence. And infinity. And healing. And life forces in general. So a _lot_ more good things than bad things…Shut up, Potter's clearly evil."

* * *

Harry finished his breakfast in the emptying Great Hall. He saw Fleur Oh My God Her Last Name Is Delacour get up from the Ravenclaw table and join Cedric as he crossed to the side chamber and entered. Krum slouched off to join them shortly afterward. Harry stayed where he was. He really didn't want to go into the chamber. He had no family — no family who would turn up to see him risk his life, anyway. But just as he was getting up, thinking that he might as well go up to the library and do a spot more hex research, the door of the side chamber opened, and Cedric stuck his head out.

"Harry, come on, they're waiting for you!"

Utterly perplexed, Harry got up. The Dursleys couldn't possibly be here, could they? He walked across the Hall and opened the door into the chamber.

Cedric and his parents were just inside the door. Viktor Oh Really Is This His Full Name Krum was over in a corner, conversing with his dark-haired mother and father in rapid Bulgarian. He had inherited his father's hooked nose. On the other side of the room, Fleur was jabbering away in French to her bother, who we won't get a description for three more books for some reason even though she's right here. Fleur's little sister, Gabrielle, who even though we've already been introduced to her this year it was only a couple of chapters ago so you _desperately _needed to be reminded of who she is, was holding her mother's hand. She waved at Harry, who waved back, grinning. Then he saw Professor Lupin and a large black dog standing in front of the fireplace, beaming at him.

FUCK YOU, A GIRL CAN DREAM. Oh and two paragraphs later we get Fleur's full name _again_, because you clearly don't know it yet after over six hundred pages of this bullshit.

* * *

"They're not letting Percy fill in for Mr. Crouch as the fifth judge tonight," said Mrs. Weasley. "Cornelius Fudge is going to be doing it, because that _definitely_ doesn't show bias toward Britain winning in any way whatsoever."

* * *

There were more courses than usual, but Harry, who was starting to feel really nervous now, didn't eat much, and Mrs. Weasley didn't try to force food down his throat for the first and only time in the entire septology.

* * *

_A/N: The conversation with Sirius about his innocence and my theory about Harry's essentially being kidnapped has actually been on my mind for years, I'm glad I was finally able to type it out somewhere._

**_Review or your entire government will be involved in your kidnapping and no one will ever get punished for your miserably abusive and neglectful childhood because they're super responsible like that._**


	9. LET'S POISON EVERAYBODAY!

_A/N: Awright, last one. On this site. For, like, ever, I guess. Still curious as to why using script format is akin to steamrolling newborn kittens for teh lols, but I'm sure fanfiction dot net has its reasons. Oh hai unfavorable Dumbledore comparison!_

**Disclaimer:** Okay, here's a list of things that are not the property of the uploading writer: _The Dark Knight_, Iron Sheikh, Y Ruler of Time, several ideas of Kitty279's again because she's awesome, _Firefly_, _Kingdom Hearts_, _Yu-Gi-Oh! The Abridged Series_, _Farscape_, _Monty Python's Flying Circus_, _Family Guy_, Super Best Friends Brawl: Worms 2: Armageddon, Two Best Friends Play Resident Evil 4, _Doctor Who_, _A Very Potter Musical_, Rifftrax, or **_HARRY FREAKIN' POTTER_**.

* * *

"So…on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!" said Bagman. "Three — two — one —"

He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Harry and Cedric hurried into the maze.

The towering hedges cast black shadows across the path, and, whether because they were so tall and thick or because they had been enchanted, the sound of the surrounding crowd was silenced the moment they entered the maze. Harry felt almost as though he were underwater again. He pulled out his wand, raised it above his head, shot red sparks into the air, and sat cross-legged on the ground, his back leaning against the hedge as he waited to be rescued. Cedric, his wand lit, stared down at him in confusion, but Harry merely smiled up at him and said, "Give us a Hogwarts victory, yeah?" Cedric gaped at him a bit longer, then grinned and took off into the darkness.

Harry watched the light from Cedric's wand fade away, wondering why it was taking so long for the teachers to come and rescue him. He was considering sending up more sparks when a feeling of pure bliss stole over him…all thought had been wiped from his mind…he felt that he was floating, dreaming…_go into the maze_…_go into the maze_…_complete the task_…

I don't want to, said a stronger voice, in the back of his head, I just want it to be over…

_Do it_…_win for Hogwarts_…

Cedric can do that…

_Do it for Hagrid_…

That one almost swayed him; he felt himself taking a step forward, but just as he was about to light his wand, the hedges opened once more and Harry shook himself free of the spell just in time to see Krum run past him, barely sparing a glance in his direction as he too ran into the darkness. Harry looked beyond him to see Professor McGonagall running toward him, looking slightly relieved as she took his arm and pulled him out of the maze. Judging by Ron's watch, several minutes had elapsed from the moment he had sent up the sparks. He shuddered to think how long it would have taken the teachers to mount a rescue had he been in real danger.

Harry thanked McGonagall and ran up to the judges' table. Bagman looked on the verge of tears, and Fudge was looking at him with disappointment and…disgust? Fear? He couldn't tell. They were the only ones, however; Maxime and Karkaroff looked ecstatic and Dumbledore smiled serenely at him. Harry stopped when he was in front of Dumbledore.

"I think I just felt the Imperius Curse on me," he said.

The smiles wiped from every face.

"Are you quite sure, Harry?" said Dumbledore seriously.

"Yes," said Harry firmly, noticing Fudge's look of disbelief and ignoring it. "Whoever casted it on me _really_ wanted me to finish the tournament." He paused. "I think it was whoever entered me into the tournament in the first place."

Dumbledore nodded, his brow furrowed as he looked out to one of the sides of the maze.

"Unfortunately, we will have to wait until the task is completed to launch an investigation," said Dumbledore, "as all of the teachers are currently patrolling the outside of the maze. Cancelling the extremely dangerous tournament is, of course, out of the question entirely."

"Fair enough," said Harry.

"Come now, Dumbledore," said Fudge, chuckling to himself. "You can't possibly believe what Potter's saying."

"What possible reason would I have for lying?" said Harry incredulously.

"Well, you _do_ have a knack for telling impossible stories to call attention to yourself," said Fudge, glaring at him. "Your whole reason for entering the tournament in the first place—"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"I never entered the tournament," said Harry. "This whole year, I've felt like I've stolen a fantastic opportunity from Cedric. Ever notice how Hufflepuff rarely gets any glory? I've been feeling guilty all year for making Gryffindor come out on top _again_. We've had it for three years straight, I have no problem spreading the good times around. And Cedric's a great guy; he could've been a real arse to me for stealing his chance to shine, but instead he's still been really nice about it, which only made me feel _worse_. Now that I've dropped out, he's finally got his chance. He's the champion Hogwarts _deserves."_

"But not the one they need right now!" sobbed Bagman, glaring balefully at Harry.

"Oh shut up."

"IS THIS SERIOUSLY THE WHOLE TASK?!" Seamus's voice boomed out over the noise of the crowd. "WE STILL CAN'T SEE A BLOODY THING! WE CAN'T _HEAR_ A BLOODY THING! AND WE HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG THIS WILL LAST! THIS IS THE LEAST ENTERTAINING THING I'VE EVER ASHAMEDLY GONE TO IN MY LIFE! THIS WHOLE TOURNAMENT IS _FAKKIN' BULLSHEET!"_

* * *

Harry was still hesitating in front of the golden mist when a scream shattered the silence.

"Fleur?" Harry yelled; and feminism marches on.

* * *

But none of the spells Harry had practiced had been designed to combat a sudden reversal of ground and sky. Did he dare move his foot? He could hear the blood pounding in his ears. He had two choices — try and move, or send up red sparks, and get rescued and disqualified from the tournament.

He sent up the red sparks, because fuck.

* * *

"Should we leave him here?" Cedric muttered.

"No," said Harry. "I reckon we should send up red sparks. Someone'll come and collect him…otherwise he'd probably be eaten by a skrewt."

"He'd deserve it," Cedric muttered, but all the same, he raised his wand and shot a shower of red sparks into the air, which hovered high above Krum, marking the spot where he lay.

Harry and Cedric stood there in the darkness for a moment, looking around them.

"…Shouldn't someone have come by now?" asked Harry. "I thought that the danger we'd be in would be pretty imminent, so they'd want to be quick about it if they want to save us before we die horribly."

"You seem to think they actually give a damn whether we survive or not," said Cedric wryly. "The first task was a blooming dragon, remember?"

"Touché."

They waited a bit longer, as no one continued to come. Then Cedric said, "Well…I s'pose we'd better go on…"

"What?" said Harry. "Oh…yeah…right…"

It was an odd moment. He and Cedric had been briefly united against Krum — now the fact that they were opponents came back to Harry. He turned to Cedric.

"You know…" he began, "if we worked together for the rest of the task and tied for it, it would still be a Hogwarts victory."

Cedric stared at Harry.

"You — you sure?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah…we've helped each other out, haven't we? We both got here. Let's just finish it together."

For a moment, Cedric looked as though he couldn't believe his ears; then his face split into a grin.

"You're on," he said.

* * *

Harry could hardly believe what he'd just seen Krum do. The use of an Unforgiveable Curse on a fellow human being meant a life term in Azkaban, that was what Moody had told them. Krum surely couldn't have wanted the Triwizard Cup that badly…unless of course that law was a Britain-only thing and Karkaroff never saw fit to mention this particular cultural difference to Krum…

* * *

Cedric took a few paces nearer to the Stunned spider, away from the cup, shaking his head.

"No," he said.

"Stop being noble," said Harry irritably. "Just take it, then we can get out of here. I'm pretty sure I've been poisoned, so if you could prevent me from dying, that'd be _great."_

"Oh wow, good point," said Cedric, immediately grabbing the cup…and vanishing.

"…Cedric?" said Harry hesitantly, staring at the spot where Cedric had disappeared. After a few minutes in which he felt himself growing steadily weaker, Harry gave up and sent out red sparks. Then he shouted as his scar exploded with pain for some reason.

* * *

Pettigrew's fast, wheezy breathing was growing louder again. It sounded as though he was forcing something heavy across the ground instead of levitating it with magic. Then he came back within Harry's range of vision, and Harry saw him pushing a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave, because he went through all the trouble of learning super-advanced Transfiguration in order to become an Animagus but he never bothered to look up _mobiliarbus_.

* * *

The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. The surface began not only to bubble, but to send out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. It was also lowering rapidly…Pettigrew shrieked in dismay as the liquid leaked out of the bottom of the cauldron. IF ONLY THE THICKNESS OF CAULDRON BOTTOMS HAD BEEN STANDARDIZED; PERCY WAS RIGHT ABOUT EVERYTHING ALL ALONG.

* * *

"Robe me," said the high, cold voice from behind the steam, and Pettigrew, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated stump of an arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, and collapsed again from blood loss because he never used a tourniquet or cauterized the wound so he bled out and died and stuff.

"…Well shit," muttered the skinny naked guy…Considering that Harry's blood was probably full of Acromantula venom, shouldn't Voldemort be slightly messed up because of it? It wouldn't kill him, obviously, but it could still weaken him…

* * *

"But how to get at Harry Potter? For he has been better protected than I think even he knows, protected in ways devised by Dumbledore long ago, when it fell to him to arrange the boy's future. Why he was the one put in charge when the job should've went to someone within the Ministry rather than a meager school principal is something that I have yet to figure out. Anyway, Dumbledore invoked an ancient magic, to ensued the boy's protection as long as he is in his relatives' care. Not even I can touch him there…except now that I have his blood and his relatives' house is under a very specific _blood_ protection, this should probably have been completely negated, but apparently not somehow."

* * *

…Lily's love shield thing is supposed to protect Harry from Dark magic, yet _crucio_ and stuff still works, what the balls.

* * *

Voldemort's face was now livid with fear…wait, what? He was furious with fear? Discolored with fear? _Up in arms_ with fear?! WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!

* * *

Why the fuck would Dumbledore leave Harry/a dead body of one of his students for any reason, Crouch Jr. never should have had the opportunity to drag Harry away in the first place.

* * *

"You had an easier time of it than you should have in that maze tonight, of course," said Moody. "I was patrolling around it, able to see through the outer hedges, able to curse many obstacles out of your way. I Stunned Fleur _Delacour_ as she passed. I put the Imperius Curse on Krum, so that he would finish Diggory and leave your path to the cup clear. In retrospect I probably should've just stunned both of them as well and gotten it over with."

"You know what you also should've done?" said Harry. "Slipped a Portkey into my pocket and activated it for like an hour later or something so I would have just disappeared and no one would've known what happened and be investigating for months while in the meantime Voldemort could've just come back and killed me and hidden in the shadows OVER SEVEN MONTHS AGO."

**"DO NOT SPEAK OF THAT WHICH YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND."**

"He understands, he doesn't comprehend."

* * *

The foggy shapes in the Foe-Glass were sharpening, had become more distinct. Harry could see the outlines of three people over Moody's shoulder, moving closer and closer. But Moody wasn't watching them. His magical eye was fixed upon Harry. Because he's a dumbass.

* * *

"Come along, Potter," McGonagall whispered. The thin line of her mouth was twitching as though she was about to cry. "Come along…hospital wing…"

"No," said Dumbledore sharply.

"Dumbledore, he ought to — look at him — he's been through enough tonight —"

"He will stay, Minerva, because he needs to understand," said Dumbledore curtly. "Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery."

"…Well, I _understand_ that I was bitten and dropped by an acromantula," said Harry, "and I _accept_ that I probably need an antidote and for my leg not to be broken now. So can I go and get some assistance in that recovery now?"

"A meaningless effort," said Dumbledore mysteriously. "One who knows nothing can understand nothing."

"…Can we at least wait until the Minister gets here? Maybe involve the Department of Magical Law Enforcement instead of handling everything ourselves and just assuming that everyone will take our word for it since there's always the chance that they won't, which we learned last year with Si…er, Padf…that guy that you know who I'm talking about?"

"That's dumb and you're dumb for thinking it."

"…What about involving Krum and Cedric's parents since their kids are victims of Unforgiveable Curses? Or again with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement so they could — what's the phrase I'm looking for — _enforce the law through their department._ Er, magically, I guess."

"It's _fine."_

"I hate you. With all of my hate."

* * *

"Polyjuice Potion, Harry," said Dumbledore. "You see the simplicity of it, and the brilliance. Seems to be a thing with Death Eaters; I believe Sirius said the exact same thing about Pettigrew last year, did he not? For Moody never _does_ drink except from his hip flask, he's well known for it. The imposter needed, of course, to keep the real Moody close by, so that he could continue making the potion. You see his hair…" Dumbledore looked down on the Moody in the trunk. "The imposter has been cutting it off all year, see where it is uneven? But I think, in the excitement of tonight, our fake Moody might have forgotten to take it as frequently as he should have done…on the hour…every hour…apparently he never learned to make the kind that can last up to twenty-four hours…that might've helped a bit…not to mention the amount of potion he would have had to make…even Severus doesn't have that much boomslang skin to set someone up for an entire year of constant doses, and he's a frelling spy…and the potion takes a month to make, was he constantly brewing new potions every day or what…how much did he have prepared before he came to Hogwarts, I wonder…We shall see."

* * *

Dumbledore pulled out the chair at the desk and sat down upon it, his eyes fixed upon the unconscious Moody on the floor. Harry stared at him too. Minutes passed in silence…

"So exactly how long does it take for acromantula venom to kill someone?" Harry asked curiously.

"Less than an hour," said Dumbledore conversationally. "Why do you ask?"

But Harry didn't answer, because he was dead. Dumbledore stared at the dead corpse ponderously.

"…Shit," he said at length. "Maybe I should listen to Minerva a bit more…LEAST THAT TAKES CARE OF _ONE_ HORCRUX!"

* * *

Thought Veritaserum's use was under strict guidelines from the Ministry of Magic—Oh wait, forgot, Dumbledore is God in this universe and he can always do whatever he wants with absolutely no consequences. Except for all the horrible consequences from his increasingly bad decisions.

* * *

…Lesson learned from PoA: If there isn't a body, they ain't dead.

Lesson learned from GoF: Even if there is a body, it might not be them.

Lesson learned from DH: You can get better given the correct circumstances.

Lesson learned from the septology as a whole: NO ONE IS DEAD. EVERYONE IS JUST RESTING.

* * *

"Tell me about the Quidditch World Cup," said Dumbledore.

"Winky talked my father into it," said Crouch Jr., still in the same monotonous voice. "She spent months persuading him. My father apparently never ordered her to not bring it up again. He was kind of dumb like that.

"It was carefully planned. My father led me and Winky up to the Top Box early in the day. Presumably there were enough chairs there at the time despite a constant need to keep adding them throughout the day. Winky was to say that she was saving a seat for my father. I was to sit there, invisible. No one was to accidentally trip on me and suddenly notice my presence, nor was anyone to question why he had invited his house-elf to watch with him."

* * *

"Now it was just Father and I, alone in the house. And then…and then…" Crouch Jr.'s head rolled back on his neck, and an insane grin spread across his face. "My master came for me.

"He arrived at our house late one night in the arms of his servant Wormtail."

"Who's Wormtail?" asked Harry immediately.

"His real name is Peter Pettigrew. He had set up Sirius Black and survived the past thirteen years as an illegal Animagus in the form of a rat."

"You don't say," said Harry, smirking at Snape, who looked furious; McGonagall had a hand over her mouth and looked ready to sob.

"I do say," said Crouch Jr.

* * *

"Wormtail and I did it. We had prepared the Polyjuice Potion beforehand. We journeyed to his house. Moody put up a struggle. I was ready to face Arthur Weasley when he arrived to sort out the Muggles who had heard a disturbance. I made the dustbins move around the yard. I told Arthur Weasley I had heard intruders in my yard, who had set off the dustbins. Thankfully, he didn't notice anything strange about my behavior despite Moody reputedly being old friends with Weasley. That was nice. Then I packed up Moody's clothes and Dark detectors, put them in the trunk with Moody, and set off for Hogwarts. I kept him alive, under the Imperius Curse, which he didn't manage to throw off for some reason even though he really seems like the type to be able to do so. I wanted to be able to question him. To find out about his past, learn his habits, so that I could fool even Dumbledore. And I was able to learn every single thing about his however-long-it-is life in less than a day so I was able to convince Dumbledore as soon as the welcoming feast began, because that's possible. I suppose I forced him to wear his leg and walk around so I could get his swagger down just so and the like. Again, all before the opening ceremony thing. Somehow. Iunno."

* * *

"After a while he began to fight the Imperius Cruse just as I had done. There were periods when he know what was happening. My master decided it was no longer safe for my father to leave the house. He forced him to send letters to the Ministry instead. He made him write and say he was ill. People bought this for some reason. But Wormtail neglected his duty. Heh heh, duty. He was not watchful enough. My father escaped. It probably would have benefitted Wormtail to keep him Stunned or dosed with the Draught of Living Dead or some other smart plan that not even my master thought of because we're all actually really dumb."

* * *

"I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner," whispered Crouch Jr. "Turned it into a Portkey. Don't know why I programmed it to come back. My master probably won't be happy about that. Whoopsidoodle."

* * *

Harry got up and swayed again; the pain in his leg, which he had not noticed all the time he had been listening to Crouch, now returned in full measure. He also realized that he was shaking. Dumbledore gripped his arm and helped him out into the dark corridor.

"I want you to come up to my office first, Harry," he said quietly as they headed up the passageway. "Sirius is waiting for us there."

Harry nodded. A kind of numbness and a sense of complete unreality were upon him. He wondered if that was caused by the poison.

"Professor?" he spoke up. "Do you by any chance know a spell with the incantation _ferula?"_

"Certainly, my boy," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "I believe it is used to put casts on broken limbs. Professor Lupin used one quite successfully on your friend Ronald's leg the previous year, did he not?"

"Yes, sir, he did."

"Why do you ask me this?"

"Because my leg is now the limb that is broken and I wish you to cast the spell on said leg."

"Why would I do that, my dear boy?"

"So I don't snap your fucking neck."

"My, this whole thing has taken quite a toll on you."

"_Incendio."_

"Oh dear, my beard's on fire. That's not good."

* * *

"I need to know what happened after you touched the Portkey in the maze, Harry," said Dumbledore.

"We can leave that till morning, can't we, Dumbledore?" said Sirius harshly. He had put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Let him have a sleep. Let him rest. _Fix his fucking leg."_

Harry felt a rush of gratitude toward Sirius, but Dumbledore took no notice of Sirius's words. He leaned forward toward Harry. Very unwillingly, Harry raised his head and looked into those blue eyes.

"If I thought I could help you," Dumbledore said gently, "by putting you into an enchanted sleep and allowing you to postpone the moment when you would have to think about what has happened tonight, I would do it. But I know better. Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it."

"As opposed to actually making physical pain go away by _healing it_ or at least _partially fixing it?!"_ spat Sirius. "And what gives you the right to order Harry to do this, anyway? _I'm_ his godfather, and _I_ say he goes to the hospital wing right now. Or use that bird on his knee to heal him, at the very least."

"He has to heal mentally and emotionally; that's more important than him healing physically. Apparently."

"I think my leg's been impregnated with acromantula venom," Harry muttered. "How long do I have to live?"

"Shut up and talk," said Dumbledore.

"YOU ARE A TERRIBLE PERSON," shouted Sirius.

"I don't follow you."

* * *

"He said my blood would make him stronger than if he'd used someone else's," Harry told Dumbledore. "He said the protection my — my mother left in me — he'd have it too. And he was right — he could touch me without hurting himself, he touched my face."

Dumbledore squeed.

"THIS MEANS YOU WON'T DIE!" he cried happily. "Well, you might…well you basically will, but YOU'RE TOTALLY GOING TO GET BETTER! THIS IS SO HYPE, YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW!" Dumbledore started sobbing in relief. "You have no idea how awesome this is, you guys! I _really_ didn't want to sentence a small child to die permanently by Voldemort's hand, you know. Finally, a chance to do some good in the world!" he cheered, doing a happy spin dance of squee.

"…Did we just write Dumbledore as vaguely awesome in one of _these_ things?" asked Sirius, blinking slowly.

"…I…I don't think I'm used to this," said Harry, shaking. "Sirius, I'm scared."

"It'll be okay, little one," said Sirius soothingly, pulling Harry into a tight embrace and softly stroking his untidy dark hair. "Shh…OotP will begin soon enough, it's the one where Dumbledore himself admits he fucked up horribly, everything will return to normal soon…"

* * *

Harry suddenly became aware that Fawkes had left his knee. The phoenix had fluttered to the floor. It was resting…_He _was resting _his_ beautiful head against Harry's injured leg, and thick, pearly tears were falling from _his _eyes onto the wound left by the acromantula. The pain vanished. The skin mended. His leg was repaired.

"WHY COULDN'T YOU HAVE DONE THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE," Harry and Sirius bellowed in unison.

"It was a prize for Harry having told the whole story!" said Dumbledore cheerfully.

"So if Harry hadn't said anything, you would have continued to make him suffer and deny him access to Madam Pomfrey, possibly until he died from venom or infection or bleeding to death or some other fourth thing?" spat Sirius, staring at Dumbledore in disbelief.

"…Maybe?"

"Please dine on many dicks. Seventeen, perhaps."

* * *

When Dumbledore pushed open the door, Harry saw Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, and Hermione grouped around a harassed-looking Madam Pomfrey. They appeared to be demanding to know why the rest of their family that was currently at Hogwarts wasn't crowding the hospital wing with them.

* * *

…So Pomfrey doesn't actually check Harry over? No one gives him anything for the Cruciatus or to counter any remaining venom in his system if Fawkes didn't get to it? No one ever heals the cut on his arm? Pomfrey just gives him pajamas and a potion for sleepy-times, and that's all he needs? HOW DO THEY KNOW THAT THAT'S ALL HE NEEDS. POMFREY'S THE WORST NURSE/DOCTOR/HEALER/WHATEVER OF ALL TIME.

* * *

Harry took the goblet and drained a few mouthfuls. He felt himself becoming drowsy at once. Everything around him became hazy; the lamps around the hospital wing seemed to be winking at him in a friendly way though the screen around his bed; his body felt as though it was sinking deeper into the warmth of the feather matress. Yes, JKR just misspelled mattress. My Microsoft Word 2003 just tried to autocorrect it and the fanfiction documents thing is also currently telling me that I fucked it up. HOW DID THIS GET PUBLISHED THIS IS THE WORST BOOK EVER WRITTEN NEVER TELL ME THAT SHE NEVER DID ANYTHING WRONG AGAIN DO YOU HEAR ME I REALLY DON'T WANT TO DO OOTP I DON'T WANNA DEAL WITH UMBRIDGE THIS IS GONNA SUUUUCK. Yes.

* * *

But McGonagall's voice drowned Fudge's.

"The moment that — that thing entered the room," she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, "it swooped down on Crouch and — and —"

"Why didn't you cast the Patronus Charm?" said Dumbledore swiftly. "I told you to guard Crouch, why didn't you?"

"Because apparently I'm not as strong a female character as everyone thought, I guess."

* * *

"By all accounts, he is no loss!" blustered Fudge. "It seems he has been responsible for many deaths!"

"But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius," said Dumbledore. He was staring hard at Fudge, as though he hadn't seen this coming somehow even though it was blatantly obvious. "He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people. Innocent until proven guilty. He was never proven guilty. You have condemned a legally innocent man to the Dementor's Kiss. Again, really."

"And no one was surprised," muttered everyone else in the room who wasn't Fudge.

"Why is everyone acting like I did such a terrible thing?" said Fudge impatiently. "All I did was get rid of the only tangible evidence of You-Know-Who's return and delayed the advancement of the plot for essentially an entire year with this one action!"

"I'm…I'm gonna…punch your face," said Dumbledore grumpily.

"The books'll be a lot better since I did that, though."

"I'm gonna kill you."

* * *

Fudge had taken half a step back from Dumbledore, but he looked no less stubborn.

"You'll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before…"

"Have you ever heard of anyone else surviving the Killing Curse before?" said Harry angrily.

"…I have not."

"Well then, shouldn't it be logical to expect some pretty funky things happening because of it?"

"…Maybe…"

"Then there you go."

"…Shit."

* * *

"I tell you now — take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Ministers of Magic we have ever known. Fail to act — and history will remember you as the disgraced man who was last seen in the first chapter of HBP and was probably killed horribly off-page soon after!"

"Insane," whispered Fudge, still backing away. "Mad…"

* * *

"If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, "we have reached a parting of the ways."

"Hehehehehehehe, he said it!" giggled Peter Griffin.

* * *

Fudge had almost reached the door when he paused. He turned around, strode back down the dormitory, and stopped at Harry's bed.

"Your winnings, he said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and dropping it onto Harry's bedside table. "One thousand galleons. Yes, my pockets are indeed bigger on the inside, shut your fucking face."

* * *

Snape had not yelled or jumped backward, but the look on his face was one of mingled fury and horror.

"Him!" he snarled, staring at Sirius, whose face showed equal dislike. "What is he doing here?"

"He is here at my invitation," said Dumbledore, looking between them, "as are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other."

Sirius and Snape instantly fell to the ground, clutching their stomachs as they cackled at the top of their lungs, swiftly followed by both Ron and Harry, the latter of which fell out of his bed. Even Hermione was laughing pretty loudly.

"What'd I say?" said Dumbledore as he and Mrs. Weasley looked on in confusion.

* * *

"Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected even though for some reason to me it was really unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher—the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for a while; why am I calling him by his surname, I would totally call him Remus, what the balls; I will contact you there. Hopefully this line won't inspire tens of thousands of slash fics over the next three years or more."

"…Why are you sending _me_ after these people?" asked Sirius. "Remus I get, but no one else is aware of my innocence."

"Remus can act as your go-between," said Dumbledore, waving his hand.

"Oh yeah," said Sirius sarcastically. "People will _totally_ believe a probably-well-known-by-this-point werewolf when he says that an evil bastard who used to be his bestest friendly-friend is actually still a good guy and tells a really long, convoluted and hard-to-believe story with no real proof whatsoever."

"There you go, what's the problem?"

"…"

~What's the betting that this is how that conversation might have gone?~

"Dumbledore said that you should believe me."

"Yeah, last time someone used that on me, Dung stole all my furniture. I'm not falling for that again, half-breed."

"But Arabella—"

"That's Mrs. Figg to you, now get out of my house!"

* * *

The Diggorys did not blame him for what had happened; on the contrary, both thanked him for returning Cedric's body to them. Mr. Diggory sobbed through most of the interview, mainly because he knew he would never be featured in the series from this point onward, even though he might've been super useful as a spy for the Order within the Ministry. What a completely wasted opportunity.

* * *

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house," Dumbledore continued. "He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play, he was a particularly good FINDer, and he didn't fit into any of the other three houses so he got dumped into the most worthless of the lot. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about."

Harry raised his head and stared at Dumbledore.

"Let's see, he was zapped by a fat, buck-toothed man holding an evil baby."

A confused whisper swept the Great Hall.

* * *

"It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies. ALL OF YOUR PARENTS HAVE HAD SEX AND MOST STILL CONTINUE TO DO SO. DEAL WITH IT."

* * *

"Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Either don't stray across the path against of Lord Voldemort, or don't be good or kind or brave, because you will die. Is the lesson you'll end up taking away from this. I need to work on my wording of things."

* * *

Harry left the compartment before the twins could say another word, stepping over Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were still lying on the floor, covered in hex marks. They were later recovered by their parents after a thorough investigation by the Ministry of Magic that involved several Aurors, and the three Slytherins were easily able to say that they were only talking before they were suddenly attacked. Well, Malfoy and Goyle were, anyway; Crabbe's tentacles had receded into his head and were slowly infecting his brain. He didn't survive the trip to St. Mungo's. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron, Fred, and George Weasley were all expelled from Hogwarts and George and Harry had to serve short terms in Azkaban, where Harry ended up being Kissed because the dementors just couldn't resist. It actually took two dementors to finish him off, for some reason, but no one could figure out how.

* * *

"Bye, Harry!" said Hermione, and she did something she had never done before, and kissed him on the cheek, which was most likely the main impetus that spawned the vast majority of H/Hr fanfiction that was written during the three-year wait before the next book finally came out.

And the ship war began in earnest. And it was very bloody. They still haven't identified all the bodies. All was well.

* * *

_A/N: So I got an invite to Archive Of Our Own as I'm editing this, so over the next week or so I'll be working on figuring out how that site works and attempting to start to upload all my old stuff and stuff. Still gonna use the same username if possible, if not look out for ShieldEcho105 because when all else fails resort to Pottermore names, amirite?_

_Still gonna post SOME stuff on here (the Silent Hill crossover none of you will read, the PoA AU I still have yet to fully nail down, moar oneshots for no raisin, crap like that) but no more parodies because fuck it. Still, it's been a good run, and it's been a lot of fun having good-natured arguments with a bunch of you. _^_^

**_Review or you'll die through poisoning by acromantula venom that no one ever bothered to counteract even though they were reasonably sure it was there and you'll also die in pain from a broken leg that everyone could very clearly see and yet no one bothered to take you to any form of hospital or use anything that could help you in the slightest unless you revealed the most traumatic event in your entire life thus far._**


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